When from the pavement of time
I unfold the war wounds
The multitude of stars
Moons and suns
Sparkle my eyes.
On the pads addressed to life
In the theft nap of summer
I try to hide the scar of autumn
Amid the waves of silver bloom
In the gall of memoir
A hardened crystal of hope glimmer.
In the biting passionate cold I sweat
In the hug of delusion I suffocate,
With the mustard plaster on chest
Marigold cushioned
On the quilt
Of blooming mustard greens
I relax
Seeing through with the silver beams,
Those from the mingling mob of clouds
Descending in elation as they seem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem