I have nothing to write about
My flesh is bared to the sun
My wife is beautiful
My children are healthy
Let me tell you the truth
I am not a poet
I just pretend to be one
I was created, and left here
Look, the sun cascades among the boulders
making the sea look darker
Other than this quiet at the height of the day
I have nothing I want to tell you about
even if you are bleeding in your country
Ah, this everlasting radiance!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem