I guide the weary old sun to return to its orbit,
Arrange the sparkling, frolicking star children to stay in their places.
I'm done,
Now I shall pluck the petals of your soul, return them to their rightful space.
Everywhere, I only find the scent of chloris flowers, not for your mortal form...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem