Oh I see
The moonlight,
Hurting me,
Killing me.
I hate it.
But why?
The moonlight-
Doing the work
With all sincerity.
But why I am
Losing my properties!
I am the art,
You are the artist,
You are painting me
And I am with you.
And the moonlight,
Like a criminal
Coming to me,
But see
I am unhurt
And alive.
I love moonlight
Most.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem