you think it is easy to
be enigmatic? it is not.
it is true some solids
turn to gas, no wonder.
stories that oceans have
not told you. The whale
as a narrator from one
continent to another singing
her song in circles.
how alock of hair is lost
in the forest, and how the
sun is buried in your chest
you spent nights looking for
it, and how i too search for
the the rainbow in your lips
after i have assumed the shape
of rains, tricking in ecstasy,
whispering the surge for those
who still dwell and slept.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem