Now and then
Come and run
Hums of bees.
Beats of drum
Cough and sneeze.
Feels of Zen
Ride and hide.
Haze of sun
Blinds and stuns
Words that bind
Hearts that taste
Ecstasy.
Heresy
Thrives
In the maze
Of propriety.
A pity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem