I have lived my poems.
The truth walks between knowledge
and existence. In split -second comes moon.
It filters the metaphysics
What pain I have, not asked for it.
The mud stream moves on to kill.
What my love was, to
do any sin. Make a red comet to
burn away my wax palace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, it's true. A brilliant poem dear poet...5 stars