When do cries bleed from diseases?
Where are the destinies and denizens?
My illness carried magic, little ones,
The little one will answer us suddenly.
Our houses of horror carry an armchair
In which I sit and bend like heaven.
The drag course is danger, like opening
And closing us foolishly.
Crying is like weeping in the whole month,
Up in the clouds of the mountains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice simile: ''Crying is like weeping in the whole month, Up in the clouds of the mountains. '' lovely poem...........10