It was a fake time,
moon will not rise.
Words were afloat
on junk dna.
A stonefaced pseudonym
dies point-blank.
The surprise, the speed
was not on our radar.
The ravenous siblings
now asleep on walls.
Naive or disingenuous.
A sitting Buddha will decide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem