One must end! ! !
I, like then, when was child
Took a ride on cloud.
A bucket in my hand and water
Smoothly walked on sand.
Fixed edges, shaped, reshaped
Formed a fish, destroyed, made a man
Then again walked on it, made angel
My last art was mermaid.
My corpse was on ground,
Soul flew in sky talked with God.
Hands busy, scavenged
Wanted gun and bullet:
“One must end! ! ! ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
many who got the gun and bullet, then wished they were children again