Come my days are fire and nights
and like your yellow sun.
The wick that holds the wax together
shortens as it burns.
The cloudless sky at night reflects
each star I see
the darkside of the moon inside of me.
Dawn it comes and sparrows sing
yet when they fly off
in my mind I think of, where I've been.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem