My thoughts halt at your lips
beyond lies your silence
to start a voyage in snowy dialogues
to find a meaning of futile life
and trash of the myths.
Our entwined life has chosen
consolation of past,
We are still alive
kicking and reveling.
A shadow imitates the God
meditates under the unyielding tree.
The fugitive may find some greatness
in insult.
The vastness of loneliness
ultimately takes over.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
True how we become solitary in latter years