Slowly meditating, calmly finishing daily tasks on
memory lane.
Stepping to the wayside, allegorically situating
speech on bows of sailboats being swept out to sea,
unknowingly reaching for wind-swept reasons.
Innate logical mysteries are being thrown aside, as
uncommon sense rinses itself from reality's store-
room, taking all language and sending it downstream
in major white rapids of unseemly attitudes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem