Dusk has cracked; dawn is here.
Dewdrops rest upon the smiling rose,
as it blooms amidst the piercing thorns.
The soil is soaked;
pebbles rise from the softened earth.
They shall caress,
not puncture our skins.
We shall merry in paradise
till dusk resumes,
and merry again
when it cracks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem