You are pinned on the
board to don the cap of watchman.
Jasmines go nomads.
To alter the nomenclature
of pain, to take a nap in the rose
garden. You cannot move a mouse.
Violets are raising hands.
The voices are dim. It is getting
dark. Two small eyes roam.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem