behind this glass window
is a garden, so green and lush,
and in the room where i am writing,
facing this computer, the hushing
sound of the air conditioning unit
reigns supreme.
the sun at the eleven o 'clock position
clouds that appear like cottons
behind is the light blue horizon
there are no words hanging in there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem