She shrieks in broad daylight,
Opening her wounds, to the day.
My window seen in the wind is grand,
More than a plain sight of abundance.
We shriek collectively, like an animal of the grass,
To mixtures a care is made by the dozen, we just shriek.
A man is again in white light, black nights will perish
Due to the heat of the day’s sun, a strange flame of a film.
He will not occupy me, this masculine star, this microscopic orange,
Always awesome, bouncing in light of the stars.
He shrieked due to blindness, answering my suggestion
Made by my son and daughter, in the house, in there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A way of letting out emotions