My home..
has a low-rise skies,
three glazed green stars lived in.
the sun laughs at the flanks,
the wind hits wherever wants,
transparent as water,
solid as a mountain,
the smell of lavender plays within,
from the mouths of windows,
grunts September, chants,
as a melodious tune.
My home..
which I colored by my hands,
happily holds me, as if I slept
in the heart of a dove.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem