The whispers of damsels are like moonlight,
Subtle like ghosts of the winds and rain;
The river banks overflow from their tears,
Gleaming reluctance is in their breath.
One sees barges of the distant places,
On the canals where livings grow of white people,
Brilliant worlds amass wounds of the area.
Mimsy men with warring women reside in union,
The canals are a proud indentation
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem