You don't know, something was
left behind to say a lot. My poems
will not reach any end,
Do not come down from
your golden stand. Life will ask many
strange questions at one go.
The vampires will wait.
You will not throw your bones.
It was a dream to kill, to kill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
life always at stake; life is the name of struggle on the earth; but we need to rescue ourselves from the risk