Sharing my sweetbread
with you in densely days when
want spans religion.
You burn my roses.
Exiting the day I go for―
wash of cannabis.
Cannot forget you
once in my emptiness of
harvesting the moon.
Rains. The August night―
invites an apparition.
You walk through the door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem