I finish it in haste, and come back from the horizon,
Carrying the quietness of night, that is the form I yearn,
I learn to go into life again. The day never
Vanish, and exists just in such a way, blind as itself.
Return to this surviving bed， to
The inner of foods. A clock is rejecting time，
I see the days cracking. But between your pain
And mine, a storm is extinguished by our sight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem