Behold the sea,
gigantic waves jostling one after another,
weeping of the mournful glory.
Clandestine bulimia expanses in the august ambience
where cradle often turns into grave.
Flowers drying under gunpowder, laughs at our superiority.
Passings fads navigate our boats on and on with the burden of geriatric
germs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful poem with powerful expressions and layers of meanings....