Today the poem is of
airborne symphony. The love comes
in an old home, when you open your eyes.
Where has spring gone?
I was asking about all the rose gardens.
You wanted to appropriate my words.
You want to float a ship
without water. How it is possible that
all the songs should be buried in blood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
"How is it possible that/ all the songs should be buried in blood "? Words that persistently gnaw at my conscience! Profound!