Hoot the wind vibrating the trees
November embrace with cold hands.
Melting the eyes like the pollens'sour deaths
Blind Colour rattles the shattered sky.
The old sun closed seals
behind the mountain
open like breath of fire.
, child's sad prayers in my heart
Spreading like ivy
I should break it-like thunder,
Blow it like the flame of a candle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem