an old man sits beside
its doorway on an old hardwood
chair facing the road where
a lot of young people going
to work and children going
to school pass him by,
his thoughts are so many
his words so few
his patience as high as
the sky
his wisdom as deep as the sea
his gaze so hazy
his mind like a butterfly
flutters among the white flowers
growing in the garden of his mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem