The sky smoke like dragon
as the wind surf beneath the
darkest daylight of sorrow
the rope capture the hymn
telling the infant
to sleep while the hoist of
belt tie in the robe of tears
blow while the soil turns to dust
for every birth sadness turn to
joy, have anyone sweeten the
the candies with oil
or to light without closing your
eyes
.....let me tell then the desert
have richness to fight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem