In a village, at the bottom of a valley, Where maple trees and birches and elms Pray to acacia and red current and gooseberry, I sip your skin in gulps, I go exploring patterns and textures of it, Its ever amazing landscapes... My sobriety is successfully altered by devastating lust. I lift up my pupils to the tarnishing, quenching hues of the heaven. I reign at my nook of cobwebs and quibbles. Riddles keep me awed.2022.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem