Wandering down lanes of icicles, hanging in my mind,
alluring and beautiful, tempting my senses to be
fulfilled and follow the extraordinary volume of
feelings being hidden behind each icicle sculpture
kept in mind.
If thawed out, they would harm and maim my heart
beyond control.
Always wanting to see and feel them anyway, they
refuse to be melted so that I can deal with them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem