Under thr blue roof
I dwell,
there was the breeze of you
pass me by,
I sense a thirst of horrible,
I then looked up at the roof,
to find a single light winkling at me.
I looked around,
but was covered with mud of bricks,
How can I see?
Thou ought to come,
but look, the ought is lying cold,
under the blue, we stay thirsty.
I hope your coming will not be delayed,
the thirst is getting more severe,
comes thousand of centuries,
but your coming still in vain.
A bright appeared and clenched the thirst,
doubled it goes,
but the mud was still there strongly and tightly,
Though the thirst is clenched
but your breeze still passby,
and when I saw you,
it stopped.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem