Returning home from the funeral, roosters crowed.
A terribly empty April afternoon on earth.
The sky appeared to us as small
As a morning glory. We went to a tavern.
Our table was full of cracks.
translated by Sidney Wade & Efe Murad
Returning home from the funeral, roosters crowed.
A terribly empty April afternoon on earth.
The sky appeared to us as small
As a morning glory. We went to a tavern.
Our table was full of cracks.
translated by Sidney Wade & Efe Murad
We're all on a road to somewhere.
My poetry is my religion.
poetry by Robert Ford
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A touch of pain .
Yes, it is.
Oh.pain n joy are two aspects of one coin.it is real life.be happy dea!! n be well.