When I opened the first door morning
Pale and empty house
Snow was wafting memories's redundancy
Floating snowflakes
Like goldfish lips on the blue tunes
thawing between themes and of the fantasy.
The springtime melancholy travelers
Free of the suffocating turbulence
sinks Toward of the Wet veranda at spring.
In the two dripping on the windowpane
Looked at me for reading
in Snow the sky's silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem