But I don't know
who was me, taking sunbath
to meet moon.
The marbles slip from
your hands to hit the white
mausoleum at dusk.
Dip any muse and
words bleed. I will not ask
for orphanage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A short but most intimate trip down the memory lane. Thanks for sharing.10 points.