The tree still stands there
Providing the place to hide
gaze of fate can see it and surrounds us
inner caverns of recluse, your weeping places,
filled with the echoing voices
from all the ages
holding the strings of voices you avert a fall
in vain you search for a dullest corner you reconcile
but people from all quarters of time
endlessly evoke a listener in you
tells the stories of lovers, kings, martys, holding nothing back
you float like the fallen leaves
your eyelids can no longer withstand drooping
you escape to a dream unsay able
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem