Nothing to write in poem or in prose
I return towards childhood
And see a grasshopper sits on
The hand of a revers clock
Nothing to say or talk with
I go to a dumb barber
His scissors speaks alone
Closer to my ears
Nothing to read or study
I gaze on calender
Days, months, years...
A bird flies away to disappear
A half-finished river flows in solitude
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nothing to read or study I gaze on calender Days, months, years... A bird flies away to disappear A half-finished river flows in solitude