On strike of midnight, then goodbye
as shadows thicken what's hidden-
bends willow weeping, sobbing 'why? '
On strike of midnight, then goodbye,
and pin these lungs, brief butterfly
that sailed in breeze of oxygen.
On strike of midnight then goodbye.
as shadows thicken... what's hidden?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem