This locomotive we call your passing charm
like looking at these swallows
our love is still in its embrionic stage
look at the desert weed burning
this is the begining of the end
this is the end of the beginning of snowing cottages ember in them
This is my house in the middle of the snow storm behind the sider web that hangs in the surrounding forest
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem