on those nights in that island i was confronted with
configurations,
curves, strong lines, bold strokes,
opulence, complacency
dark corners, dead ends, walls, twisted paths,
roasted scents, too general for you to really specifically picture,
heat, hot springs, cool nights, bird calls, dewy leaves,
roots of tall ancient trees,
i disregarded memories, i am into creativity, into something new,
what i never had before, falls, ripples, floating drifting wood,
rivers,
i never make a call, and i never receive calls from you,
my mornings are stares, gazes into far seas,
there were some storms that no one ever notice
such is the story behind my escapade.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem