In the season of breathe
The first poem of autumn
Slowly like a dancing raindrop
Over the rooftop of my starry night
With my fingertip I write my own fiction
Coloring the image with brilliant red
You at the far end, whispering
And I try to interpret words, silence
An endless sky for us
This is like a dream
This is like a dream
Don’t worry
I’m not waking up….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem