I hear the sounds of the watery stream,
Far and below the masters of fish are abiding,
Their stare is a straw like the drinking of the shore,
I hear the very sounds that reside in the watery bay.
I see winds of the eternal storm,
Matrimony is visible in this perfect tempest,
Temples erect, tightrope walkers abound
In this circus of life called the air.
I hear the sounds of a watch that manipulates
Our lives like the fire and storm, a little like
The water of the pond we called life in those days,
A little like food of the air that bounces and suddenly falls.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem