Light up the match
Though
Dusk has not pressed dark
It still unconscious lies
In the winter-spring tremulous of waves in pain
Waves
That
Be
Currents
Of wisdom
And else:
Light up the match
Still
Though the early stars peep
Out
Though through the fleece of
Could
The moon peeps.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem