Give me the night vision
under the sandstone and the ravaged candle
White tiger will not come out.
Who points the finger to
sea? The migrant doesn't want a refuge
in fire. Father looks from the sky.
It is hot, it is hot.
Do you need a drink in the
cup of moon? Tears hang in the green eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem