There is no life in the world.
Only the moving shadow
Gradually becomes taller from time to time,
The surroundings of the heart
Is not filled with air,
The lungs of earth becoming fragments
With the glare of thundering light.
No one is there.
Only an image is moving
With its historic footprints
From hell to heaven.
The eyelids cool down.
Closed quietly
From light to dark.
The image is still moving towards
Deep dark night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem