The hill of hope
Breaks into storm
Celebrating despair
On the broken glass
With the poisonous tune
And music of sorrow
On the uneven floor
A naked dance of life
The bowl of dream
Fed on the dead bodies
Failure tells the wind
Perhaps in this way
No one will come
With the bucket of red wishes
I sit on the broken bank
And wait for the star
But destiny tells the river
Perhaps in this firmament
It will never rise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem