Foreign words, sneaking into corners of darkness,
to await their turns of meanings in spotlights of
prose.
Holding hands with one another, hoping for the
best in purposes of poetical literature.
Tramping up mountainous circles, watching for
particles of any part of nature to write about.
Silencing ethereal noises and resurrecting them
into poems of sublime ecstasy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem