Ergo I concede whatever I say
All aim you actually to say my words
Fickle dry leaves fizzing nature
On the dismal meadow grey coloured
Ensuring a furnace my tramp cards
Ensnaring deep blue foul darkness
Sometimes my words masquerade as an alley
Would you be a furnace?
Would you be a furnace?
Or
Would be a bevy of twittering birds?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem