From the trains.. The face of journeys shines
In the stations.. The pictures of hopes disappeared
The train goes on and trees have disappeared in his track
A cloud stole moon s face
The path switch off
And the small children how they noisy!
With muddy mouth laughing on our feet those cloudy with soil
There is no rain in our street!
Between wheat there is a pretty blond girl
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem