Dear fortune-teller,
tell me if there is enough fortune
in the palm of my hand.
For if there is not,
as were not found in the palms
of my companions,
I'll overturn the table, you and all,
and catch the first plane towards the black holes
which are not concealed in the palms of our hands
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem