Tests growl at summer as dawn approaches,
Volleyball practises many talents of slaves,
We are trails of stepping shoe-prints, soldier’s prints,
The stew of food goes down the throat that is a sheet.
Many in the woods called spying sessions,
Sailing the very forest with tigers growling,
Sisters of dragons were crawling and they died.
My sea sparks strawberries written by fruit,
The riddle of a walk is through the forest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem