The whole world
is a color of orange.
you imagine age
as pure
sunset.
there is a black
hat below this world
there is a face of
a man with
a screw for an eye.
nothing really means
much
except the dissolving
part
which is actually
nihilism at its
peak of beauty and this
is what we experience
when we say
we like to die and
this is the moment
when a writer says
nothing and the reader
sayS much.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem