It was a slaughter
phase. Moon was rising. The stingers
get ready and murder game starts.
I see in dream. A Viking
warrior is taking off the helmet. I ask
can you decimate an ant?
The greed bites off the
head of the coin king. I want to
bring the unhealed poems of love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem