you ask me once
what are the chances of restraining
my demented summer
the torments imminent
the conclusion about to be written
by the hands of those who are
here to judge
i tell you until the next falling of the snow
until the consummation of
desire until the death of passion
until the day when i am finally
buried in the sand
shall all these be
considered finally meaningful
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem