Solitary confinement emptying out into the nighttime air,
lovely as the night began, restless torment filling the
jowls of life.
Fermenting - deadly wars have been raged - turning into
pages of history to be read at later dates.
Fragrantly, flowers pause upon a grave, taking their short
place in life, throwing all to the wind and becoming dust
once again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem