Nuts are brighter than the brown flowers,
Opening entrancing gestures of spring;
My thought resides in the minds of men
Who stammer with their bright tongues.
The nutty men are the poor women,
Their wrestling is exactly proud and innocent.
Those botanical objects in the air
Are the doctors of the kindness.
One matters along the heads of masters
Who problematically sell their virtues.
The zoos of primitive laughers are against
The wall in this side of the galaxy.
Once the cosmos considers the stars,
The stars consider the giant stars to be solid.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem