I am always getting you in my sweet dream,
‘You're neither my enemy nor friend'; a gleam,
From the mirror of thought, it must be, I think,
Iteration of yellow, red, green white and pink,
Far seen ‘ego' simmered, on vapor seen love,
Many birds! A crow surrounded by million dove,
I am in love, or with hatred, blue- red, blue-red,
Something is pinching; unaware I am, but afraid,
Am I jealous with his success or the way of access?
That he does and I can't do, why he gets excess?
My failure has became the ghost of his success,
Love or hatred both the ghost of mind, a dream mess,
Why my pain is your gain and your gain is my pain?
The filth I removed, now your turn —drain, drain, drain..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem