Running mountains,
Sleeping clouds,
Moving sky, eating birds,
All on the damaged road.
Intense night,
Broken dreams,
Void whirlwind,
All in flowing water.
Think not about
The river near.
Utter not any word
Before any stone.
Grapes are soured,
See life just a soup-plate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem