At the dark night, when sky sheds its light
On the groovy air, when the sounds turn off
And the miracle comes, through the ground of bad
Above the tree, cunning serpentine noise
Making a touchy seen, all away on the sand
Blow doffed lightening, thunder darkened sight
Leaves never feel, roof having nightmare
Pensiveness all in thought, revolution of fun
What is this? What I am?
Don’t ask me; ask yourself
A stampede of naughty life, be careful
Here I am, devil! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem