My heart often turns into dust
It flies
I myself feel how the little ones as well as you
abhor me
Flying flying flying
Take shelter on the leafy banners
On the walls
On the ceiling
On the ground...
And then on everywhere
Before absorbing moisture
Before turning into mud
I feel sorrow
For blocking the hope of little rays
The tears of earth know it
And I again turn into a hopeful joy!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Before absorbing moisture Before turning into mud I feel sorrow For blocking the hope of little rays turning into a natural hazard. a very fine poem. to ny