There is blood in the cup,
Streets are wet.
(if tea is blood, then of course ground is red)
The antennas are taller than the trees
The cubes of houses are a mess
(Maybe trees are antennas or else. curtains are disturbing)
Writers were surrounded by piles of papers in the old
Wires are around me everywhere, what if I am not a writer?
oh
Maybe I am a wireman
(What if the wires are worms and so am I? ?)
(What if the affairs of me and wires are lovely? ?)
The blanket along the window doesn't stop the cold.
my feet are numb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem