Sun runs its hand
On a burning bush.
Moon walks to be free
From all of our burden.
The sun shines carefully
And scrupulously forevermore.
The moon dies and delivers
From water and stone.
My sun is certain of awe
Reaching the planet we learn.
My moon exhibits a danger
Too late in the Earth's glow.
This sun decides future wealth
When sunny weather is about.
This moon denatures the enzymes
Of our body once dissolved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem