A great cloud billows above me
Rainfall of geysers steam upon my head
And I look down in vain to where
I thought succour would come
This is where fireflies spew from a furnace!
I am trapped
Worst than Syrian victims in my frightening boredom
Where can I get the river debris to clutch at?
As I drown downstream
This is what I have been offered
In my transient stay in a death end world
I am convinced about that day's event
O, my daughter
And she's gone!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem