in reality,
poetry is another
form of politics.
do not bribe me
with fame, i know
how tricky would
that be.
i like my own nook,
peaceful and calm,
and isolated from
bickering
of who is greater
than whom, of who
is finer than fine.
my heart is a
haven of soft feathers,
birds so many birds
sing inside it.
i simply love the
full moon, it does
not know me, but
i love it just the
same.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem