Light shines on the book
A book masked by its cover
Untouchable trapped in a bottle of clouds
You open it
Gloves are the only way
You sit on the chair of unknown
And start to read the pages
Pages that grow like a tree with water
Still cut to a stump with the knife that is power
Candles burn till the end winding down the clock
A fan blows time away to a place of flowers and leaves
Where a boy walks with a cane
And a dyeing man dances on the table with no coat
This separate place is only found in mirrors
But remember mirrors can be deceptive
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem