For my water god I entered the wetlands.
Fog was increasing and me becoming incoherent.
The swamp throws a high tide of rolling wave
I lift the burden of bones and take a plunge in darkness.
The holy moon gives the company in yellow mood
smelling of honey and rusted-red mulberries.
A maxim inside the solitude hurts the path
where I lost my innocence for a son.
A breeze, a cloud, a beautiful sky
I carry the dust of my home wherever I go.
The wreckage was intact, past was shining.
An octopus was sending the suckers for future.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i like this its sounds pretty i wasn't sure first with the name of it then i read and it and sound quite mystical keep up the good work.