O Earth,
today, standing on your bones
I will study my fears.
I am talking to myself
to say everything, which I don't
mean, presiding over the violence.
Bullet-ridden I
will return your sorrow
to sky, hailing the stars.
From grief to grief
I walk pigeon-toed,
to explore the mines of seed thoughts.
In summer, you
offer the naked hands to me
to write the poem of the day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem