Mars is as to Venus
and around the moon under the sun
while a fire is burning
my mind.
Trees and bushes
whispering winds, ruffled leaves.
Open they curl in and out as if.
While there is Mars in regard to Venus,
the fire is burning too type,
as for your month either way and turning
the wind, which belongs to the sun the wood
and the bush, which whispering,
make the leaves a pillow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem