Dripping with elegance of winter snow
In her disarranged mane in april cold
a lass hopped in last in a downhill cab
A promise of chornicle has been made.
For it is just a little after dawn
When devils rest after their last errands
It's now the sun rose; not at 5 O' Clock
For the sun not sickle reaps first the corn.
Once upon a century; easter eve
I deny the truth the dining wolf spake.
O that bygone fog drizzle was just once
left snowy tracks in my dreams many once.
Cigarette fog-wet between thy lipsticks
You were the faded sun above the storm.
Breathing away a dusty mango juice
A crescent she, from the north western dusts.
Wind and sunshine: one touched; the other felt
Mystery that unveils zodiac to melt.
And the fair path scrambling on valley green
Fled unending as sounds of a violin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem