If my clothes were the wind
sooner or later the dawn would be forever
lying in a bed of roots and raindrops
with moonlight for a pillow and rain that should be warm
and what should i compare the sunrise too
maybe the color of millions of leaves on an autumn hill
their fragrances thrust up into a blue sky losing its shape
looking heavy if you crouch down in a corner
because the world will die night after night
but pay no mind to those crying especially if they have wings
especially if my mother joins my hands when they are in prayer
when a breeze drops a letter in my lap and behind my fingers i cry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem