as the torch being ablaze
of heat from the sun
sunburnt from the wind I last,
stretching sails of purpose
and is not making
any difference for me,
whether my boat will be drawing up
still to other edge.
on the black earth, yellow sand,
on the snow,
I will leave my tracks,
and my heart there,
where related I have souls,
whom I will move with the word,
with dream...
and perhaps then I will just become
the oblivion?
I will rest after the walk
who still doesn't have the end.
I will turn the face to the sun
and gladly on the mouth I will stop,
I will see that the route behind me
and before me is empty...
then I will fly away with sigh,
I will become only recalling...
amazing heartly words came out from a pure honest heart.. so beautiful dear sweer poet.. yours.. hazem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem who will always be for me one from most beautiful. It is worthwhile reading.