This is the house of letters
where the purest snowfalls are
scattered in the balcony
too much, unreached messages
too much, tainted loyalty
melting under the sunlight
that blossoms via the opened window.
The most hilarious idea is that
thing which we hope to be a salvation
has now become a mere mirage
coming from nowhere, leaving for nowhere.
This is the home of all occasions
running from a note to another rhythm
where some hopes are taken away
and some are fading inside the glitter.
Some are dispersed in the wind
some become a song in the living room
listened by no one but the spinning bubbles
descending into our wildest dreams
of a peaceful moment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very pretty and hopeful.a ten.