Where is my written hand?
Floating with the face of lands
Striding to and fro, like the seas
Of bursting quality and drowning is
Your birth, your right to dive.
The sea of such oil dries the blood,
A land of opportunity offends the odours
Delighted by your presence,
In the end we create a puzzle to devolve,
In this light the offensive thoughts buy us.
The purchase of expensive thoughts
Defies the united spirits, like the offers
Of our times, jelly of the sea, jelly of our times.
Feeding is frenzy, fighting is fleeing,
Like the groaning of the blood so old.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem