The Hat Which Was Stolen Poem by Thun Thura Thway
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The Hat Which Was Stolen
On that day.
with the sounds of thunder,
my little green leaf fell off.
The mouth, full of smoke
is not dreamy for you,
my little sister.
Go then.
The flower cart you think is
driven by Rā vaṇ a (Datha-Giri)
you will know it at a far distance.
But a sure thing is.
In the next morning,
there's no water for me to be alive.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: sister
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8/29/2026 4:11:10 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
A strange stuff, but I love it