On my sphere of slow etymology, do you know the wrong words?
I have never seen two colors of light ----fashion.
I know I will never see it.
All illusions.
Intoxicated with color, the body of the dream is very relaxed,
the slow circles are calling you.
One color-matched soulless name, you call life.
The other totalitarian you call death.....
Two boats swayed at either the end.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem