Behind those pages of diary-
I imagined those words.
Flowing out and popped up like-
Jump of twisting popcorn.
Lines of fourteen express my virtue;
As-
Sweats with blue ink burst out,
Racemic mixture of heart.
A blank page of muted suicide-
Bows down to lovely magma;
To be loved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Solitude let the imaginations flow. Well written