When the poet leaves with his eternal journey
After which neither return nor return
Cover him with the ashes of his scorched poems
From dumped drafts stacked
In an old trash can
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lamp oil has finished Ink of quills has finished White papers have become black Around bin has filled up with torn writings papers Undertakers has come O bier bearer! please stop your walking O Necropolis! Wait a while Let me bring my phoenix soul- the grey haired writings! //// love it
I like your nice writing and comment, Thank you