Warm feet rest on the cold floor,
The brain focuses on the movements of muscles.
For a second, the soul can wander freely,
Oh, the muscles contract, twist and turn.
Empty stomach waits for a grain to land on its flesh.
The hollow body waits for the fluid to wash it through.
The blood in the veins dried,
Cheeks became paler and the eyes deeper.
Loneliness plants so many seeds in a soul,
That for others the soul becomes a forest to rest in,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem