This is what I am,
And I am telling
About the sun that
very often comes to
My dreams.
Of course my dreams
Are not only for the sun,
For my dreams the sun
Is like a balloon that is
Going to burst at any time.
I am telling my dreams,
O, please come again and again
To enable the sun to walk with me
Wearing forest flowers.
At times I am suffering
With my woes like coal
And the wolf was watching me.
And at that time the sun
was going to bed,
My dream is at present
In emptiness and I am eager
To hear and to see about my dreams,
But alas, all my think-tanks
Are going dry.
You said, worry not
It is summer, and such things
Are but common
I failed to understand this version.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem