As if the words of the beloved are the melody of birds,
Smearing the color of cannonball tree blends into the horizon
Rubbing life with the leaping drops of water,
She has painted the breast of the suspended air-balloon.
She shines brightly in its blush, the foam of bully in the sweetness of love.
Stopping in hesitation, the speed of the current burst out-
It is the eyebrows of the sun-colored desire
And in the relaxed grip of wonder.
Flying the flag, she arrests the fish eyes
Comes and falls in the silvery euphoria of passion,
Hoping to bait insects with sweet traps.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem