The blue melody of the underworld
Finally volatile it is.
The mind flies with the peacock's wings
Yet the need just cuts
The leaves of creation of a birth
And the unique beams, pillars, materials of construction
Invisible walls are created by the uncontrollable need
Between the thirsty area and the creation bar
On the eve of the majestic pleasure
Extinguished, destroyed, finally spoiled at last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem