Slowly and swiftly a drift is running
This rapt is capturing my breathing
Though this maze, raze my veins
Yet I am not trying any rescue.
It has intricate me, although
But ephemerally star fluttes in dark
A manner of coyly appeared for me on me
Hedonist or disillusion is this whim.
Happy at con adore
Sorrow in con amore
Flowing in still lake urge
Quixotic manner is my curb
The entire amenities are very exquisite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem