Ghosts
May not be there
But believe me
Certainly the word
Ghost is there
With us and
It proved shadows
And stories
Full of noises.
Ghosts know well
How to protest
How to prevent
How to leave
How to press
The sky
And to clarify
Butterfly
A broad flight.
No one can write anything
In a space created by ghosts.
Small or big - no matter,
Black or white - no matter,
The matter is that all are
Usually removed in due course
From the earth to come back
Soon to watch the present
With a gift of tasty colours.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem