Yesterday is a tale of your bluish promise
You'd arrived into my bed-room of heart
I'd felt soft fingers of love like denim jeans
Smell of your dusky hair kissing the violet air.
Time is now hungry but moon marches slow
Smile beam is walking at cheerful night
Phantom of delight sat on my thought
Am I really going mad to pull out my hairs?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem