My lungs have stopped breathing,
My heart has stopped breathing,
The hairs on my forearms have risen
Like a storm from an ocean.
And the world is looking stranger than usual.
The words that you culled out from your thoughts,
And the thoughts that you culled out from your heart,
No one can describe how beautiful they really are,
Not even you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem