Hold the door
He walks in as tree in the wind
I see its trunk; fruits, leaves
Digging sees sympathy and pity
A cloud of questions:
What is age, what is this?
Then comes hope; prayers:
I want gone by force, wish.
I don’t want; such being.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great write. Like the concept.