This island is fluttering its eyes,
With shock the tail of the land is on,
Fire has been, fire has seen,
Like boulders of the ire and pride,
Leaving the rusty leaves with fear.
This island shatters the glass of water,
Water can be conspicuous attire,
Echoes of the eroded parlour are grand
Like bees in their hives, feeling ill
Like the landlords of golden politeness.
This island cancels a dire warning,
Waterfalls line the outer world
When fires and heat fill the green void,
Fisting the eyes of the overall lord
Who seeks those strange dark strands.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem