Sometimes I do not
want to be talked about.
Like the setting sun.
The earthworm was busy
in turning the soil,
printing the seed's path.
I had removed, from
the house, all the clocks.
I wanted the time, to stand still.
My moment has not come.
In aloneness I will
find you in my shut eyes.
The dark night swims
once again, on the sea
to reach the boat.
You lay down your head on
the oars and go to long sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The earth worm was busy In turning the earth's soil Printing the seed's path - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I do not want to be talked about like the setting sun- - - -A meaningful poem, thanks for sharing.