I hope on laughter and I hope on
With lots of futures too calm and beautiful,
So then my past is my plan for the time
Enclosing my life, little future is little present.
Terms of living are short, terms are so short
That their words are so small like the ants
And gnats, little by little their stings erupt.
Then blood has a death, delta wings are formed,
With adjusted beliefs, and slanting leaves
Grown on trees of silver and bronze and copper.
The dragons are my laughter,
Their wings collide with themselves
Liking each lick, ransacking the city
With force, little swimming is about.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem