My house is a hundred years old
The wounds of time appear on the walls
Even though I have tried to repair you.
You are as beautiful as a monument of the past,
I have lived and grown inside of you.
My hundred - year old house -
When it rains, why do you cry?
The roof and ceiling leak
And I …
Run with a bowl in my hands
To catch the tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem