Twisting, shouting, leaving edges of lasting verbal
inclinations, blowing in the wind.
Lashing against blue skies and white clouds, chasing
itself through pipelines of fantasy without holding
back.
Ripping satin touches of lace as lines appear
invisibly in the atmosphere.
Wandering without a cause to promote, as darkness
falls around me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem