Say, whatever you like
But remember, here
Only poems you can find.
The white ants
Cannot do anything.
The unknown bird
Throw its wings.
And the sky is
Collecting all airs.
Not a drop of water
You can find
In this month of July.
Let me not say further
About that clean-mountains.
I also cannot express
My feeling about the journey
How the train is running
Behind that white bear.
Excuse me, My dear,
I am not able to take you
As a part of my journey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
we cannot say specific about life and also about poems..