The moon cries from stupid lies,
Foul moons deeply feel sorry
For their tears and worn truths,
Such as what accumulates on the beach.
The sea is dear, expensive, wild,
And full of mischief, all because of you
And silver moons.
Move merriment into the soul of delight
As movement teases us, teases us whole.
May godly scholars provoke crime
On the outward sky, controlling and responding
Like something to be judged.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem