Living joy,
Birds and love,
Detachment and blood,
Heartbeats and night,
All embracing.
All for myself,
All watchful and sweet,
All love and hope,
All transparent and clear.
Life itself is a voice,
And living a joy.
It is all eyes of
The nightingale and
The play of skyscrapers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem