Sitting like a stone,
there is righteousness. Who was wrong?
Let me search for a needle in a haystack.
A red moon sends
heat. The sun gonna blink. Cannot
revise the kiss of roses and thorns.
What I am is, life is not.
A blood vessel bursts in your eyes
to see the integrity of white eagle.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem