Run out
Anything is dry.
What is drained
The earth, the wind, the sky and all the water are exhausted.
Today, one wind blows.
There is also a wind in tomorrow.
One day the wind will disappear.
It's a terrible wind to disappear.
Even today, the wind that falls in the air dies
Listen to the sound without sound
You and I have a common denominator of death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem