If you have a ghost, it has a shadow,
Two trees are two arms for the living.
I stood over the plate of flowers,
With fruit flowing on its edges.
If you have a ghost, then its screams
Evaluate your pride, as it lingers.
The shelves of shapes are a distance,
To be layered is to be a shadow,
Like the ghosts who are the inner family.
My skin is polished by the brilliant skies,
My head is your body, and mighty tales
Are spun by the wise angles of yours.
Let ghosts be shadows, the long statements,
The deserts of our destinies, a long time.
But to be desolate is only a ghost of vividness,
The vivid satellite is my only phantom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem