Flames in the fireplace.
Hands that touched them, got burnt
but now know their heat.
Flames having no power
over me, unlike wild dreams
never to be fulfilled.
A little log untouched
by fire. Like a soul who braved
the world and won.
Smoke rising aloft.
Eyes that follow it, breaking
free from gravity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Once again, bravo! Read it 4-5 times to get the metaphor. Beautiful words.