finally we have
to decide now
not to talk about
the shreds and
shards
the sounds of
broken pieces of
glass
why not hear the
clinking of those
wine glasses
to cheer those who
by now
must kiss each other's
thirsty lips?
need not be about
those bees
and flowers
i like flying pigeons
those who have
roosted for so long
on one-legged houses
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem