You not only hear the crisis,
But swear a delivery arises,
Fearing the loot and waters,
Of a tragic disappearance.
Return to the spectrum of deceit,
Opening false dreams soothingly.
We manage our thesis on the knock,
Pens and paper readier than red.
A swallow enters the area so much
Like background music.
Offer it now the disappointment
So that orbiting around a star
Is common sense.
I see the crisis of the star
That revolves around petrification.
It is the star tremor,
It is the feature of the winds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem