A marvelous pair
with millions of filtering units
purifies the blood,
excess water and waste
spout out.
On the operation table
divinity turns into greed
stethoscope kisses currencies,
one in the pair
vanishes in the air,
a sure excision.
As the dreams of avarice
deliberately defiling
the wonder of creation
creep into the mind,
a stooping down to homicide,
a conquest and a plunder.
Nearby, sparrows perch on the boughs,
ruffle their feathers against one another,
bunches of grapes like dangling ear-rings
sway slowly in the wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
maybe you are right...