The seagulls caught me,
counting my curses
like a dead man,
talking in mental replies
until I swam,
drenched to brimming
in dark grey.
Then bird cries snapped me,
and scrubbing up the world,
I saw that brilliance still lived.
That life exuded from every sound,
outside my personally contagious clique.
That so long as sky and soil live close,
there is a smiling hope.
So I took up my bed and walked.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem