Broad air thin breathe a good place to be
A sorrow here soon thereafter or forever
Alike, handshake heir in the land of ‘never’
In a fruit full of juices I will tell thee
The dust is the dust, ash - a dusk mask of glow
Colours spreading painted tainted hues of blue
Above the moon too high beneath the earth too low
The skyline’s a skull line made for me and you
In over bridged horizon the sun I will tell thee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem