i stole the whole sun
to implant in your heart.
all holidays turn busy days;
your slender figure squeezes e
through a filled-up pitcher inside.
i hold the splashes in my palm-cup
and drink all the drops to the lees.
the 'wattled-cabin‘ reached the moon;
instead of walking down the bridge
i swim in the current of the river;
a hard struggle with all sinews
reach me across on the other bank.
the burglar is now caught red hand;
‘hanged to death‘ might cease the kleptomania
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem