My body is made by iron
The iron has its own characters
sky is like a marble umbrella
Under that umbrella
I sought an orchard
In the orchard
I’ve considerable friends
My hair is made by silver
No one can destroy silver hair
I have no other possessions but you
Shrine knowledgeable brain
You held the flag of past stories
My pen is slothful Hammer
I write through tunnel of paper
Until I lost in a pristine land
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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