What is my mast ? A pen.
What are my sails ? Ten crescent moons.
What is my sea? A bottle of ink.
Where do I go? To heaven again.
What do I eat ? The amaranth flower,
While the winds through the jungles think old tunes.
I eat that flower with ivory spoons
While the winds through the jungles play old tunes;
The songs the angels used to sing
When heaven was not old autumn, but spring
The bold, old songs of heaven and spring.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Please read it sheer beauty in my comment. Sorry for the inadvertent typo.