He can so caress that nothing can be excluded. ( - everything is possible)

Perhaps I was born from my father’s headache,

I cannot say anything exactly,

When the God died, I was a child.

From the sea foam(froth)? Well, how can I know,

The black sea, at the coast of which my house stands,

Is followed by black foam (froth) and numerous tears

And dolphins swim up here from time to time.

How can I know how I was born,

Which apple my mother and father share,

Which pastry doll (puppet) they baked,

Which flower bud I came from,

To which tree chip they blew breath

Which ward was said and which syllable I followed to,

I know nothing exactly,

And that’s why possibly I write poems

And if I had known something exactly,

I would not have written.

Anyway,

I think so. (that’s how I think)