My thrown out ethereal slumbered coins on the pigeon house are slowly being possessed by Ghaschorui. In the heart of a wall clock remains a springtime lemon garden. Sleepbirds possessed that fragrant city of water. Ancient Ironed city and earthquake measuring machine are remaining alone on the mountain's peak - whose body is printed with naked deity's unannounced dancesteps. I don't want to know the bronze idol's seasonal cycle. In these nights it is better to tear apart personal bedtime after erasing the language of sensational night written with whitish words.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem