Do not open this dirt file of
the suspended time. It reverberates
in me while standing
on the edge of a precipice.
Are you hungry of a desert
light in dark. The birds are
going to follow the sun carrying
the moon on their wings.
A dream creater stands on
a golden rock to retrieve
the archaic relic of a Desinovan
who hit the grave without shoes.
The greed ultimately takes over
the silent death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice one. good poem with beautiful meanings. feel free to comment my poems as well.thank you