Right in the middle of the street
I could here my mind speak
Sidling through the crowd
Thoughts all gloomy like a dark thick cloud
So far I've strived
To create me a better life
Whether by a new place to dwell
Or a written perfect poem
All of these I've been thinking
So much they crept in while sleeping
My Quest: to genteely fill my niche
In the end, I hanker after a life well lived
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem