As phantoms of past hurts
Knocked at my midnight
At the unlit corner where
Awareness took a blind turn
I tried to think tall cedars
And tiny violet flowers
Strewn on the garden path
Sundials with quick hands
Full-grown Great Danes
Chasing winter shadows
Then my morning came soon
In the aura of the glass-house
And the luminescent spaces
Of the sun-lit bamboo groves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem