You keep anxiously the longing for sweets,
You have torn speech like dirty robes,
And abandon treasure arriving at your feet.
Because the brain is loving stones and pebbles,
You accept the dawn of all dresses that stammer.
Speech is torn by now, lesser saints are abiding here,
Sleeping on, like the torn houses and wincing activity.
You who are awake in the deepest folds of the night
Occupy a station called desired peace, lusty speech
Appears like an apparition, so bound for the spirit-world.
Beyond the place of disturbances, a house lies open
To cockles glistening by the sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beyond the place of disturbances, a house lies open To cockles glistening by the sea. Very interesting poem on sea. Wonderful really.