In the middle of the night, a poem walks into a London fog,
watching a train that runs along a grey track.
Someone cuts the train of negative chugging -
we see Helen Keller lighting up
candles and lanterns in her fogless but darker world.
The starlight that circles the street lamps whispers,
'The world misunderstands us, but it doesn't matter.
It's only between you and God.'
Your eyes twinkle inside a garden of starlight now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem