what i am seeing is beauty
beauty is subjective, this is my happiness
my medicine, but take it it will be your poison
it will be your way of vomiting what beauty is to the
beholder. what i see is a passing black bird
on my horizon, it is always a case of leaving
and putting back where my soul lies,
what i see are colors of sorrows and hideousness
this you cannot see because i have a wall for myself....
what i am seeing is beauty, it is the upsurge of my
ecstasies... you are curious, you want to be counted it
to what beauty is. It is boxed and what is there is
the beauty of darkness.
black as the night, cold as the mountain fog,
glistening dew of leaves, sparkles of stars,
sounds of leaving boats, and the song of the swan.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem