February 3rd, home of turbulence,
Your persistent tide is still alive in my veins.
In your garden, the soil is fertile,
Although flowers have withered in your overweening smile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I cherish this poem. This is how it is when you cudgel your brain over a former event, which almost sent you to an insane asylum but you came back on you two feet. You may need to read my poem '2006' Continue to write.