In every day, night, and all place,
My quest is the question of still life.
My face is beaming brighter than light,
Love lurks, love hurts, with all-embracing
Sight, those faces will see my vitality.
It is the resurrection, it is the sole thought,
When whole faults omit their details,
The dangers of the eternal joke are sudden,
Hatred encounters the backpack
As we journey forwards, with love on hearts.
As rising and diving is the water of the waters,
We seek the innocent self with sailing sides,
The wings of the chieftain are against the man
Who hurts like love, and questions the heart
Of a man who contains the objects of the past.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem