A warm, smoky evening walked and ran,
Knowing has a certainty, of resentment.
I had thought of significant ideas and moments,
Inner thoughts destroyed me afterwards.
The new number of probabilities increased,
Inserting the longing of the soul,
The shortest way to home was through it,
It was the soul that mattered for the moon and stars.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'warm evening' good writing. It really pave the way to enjoy the nature's beauty.