Tears taste tears,
seized in salt. You don't need
oxygen. How many husbands will cry?
There are no facts.
Trust melts and becomes Ganges.
You want to kill time and save love.
I do not know
when the volcano bursts. I will
walk on the lava to leave the footprints.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem