The raindrops are dripping with blood.
The blood is scattering in the wind.
The intensity of the rain is increasing in the wind.
Alone on an abandoned road
like a wet crow wet,
bloodstains from the end of
the blood droplets from my body with the hair in the synthesis of the horrible sight.
I went to the crop field,
walked to the pond,
voluntarily went to the cane for thorns,
and everything soaked in red blood
greeted me.
I want to give up so much blood in a little space,
I want to go out of the stream of blood.
There is no such place anywhere!
Even if it rains a lot,
if there is a lot of blood wash, where will I go?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Reading this poem shook me to the core. Is there a peaceful abode in this world without bloodshed n pain?