Its indeed sunny
There are sparrows in winds tongue
Gushing from the belching of sun
Mothers and sons in race
Gropping for sketches
To stitch the baldness of their skull
Wrappers are on fire
Caps on melting zone
Tongues are dry
Eyes emitting thunders
And in one voice, they rage
Where is the shadow
Its the same Sun
That burns
That shall still carve shadows
That subcools
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem