Well, I never thought,
Anything could cut me,
So sharply.
I never knew.
The blood came,
Oozing out, the blood,
In red.
'Ouch, ouch, ' I said.
The thorns in my garden,
Filled with danger,
Were the thorns,
In my soul's garden.
Where the thorn resided,
From over many years,
Where he had hurt me,
So cruelly and so badly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem