one puts too much
oil on the hair
and you know how it
goes
your face glows
like fire
your hair becomes
pitch black
and you face the people
of this corner
and that pathway
as though you are you
inside the fire
and the sickness burns
outside the smile
becomes as wide
as full moon
who knows you?
nobody
what then? you are happy.
i know, . i am too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem