when you are on top
you see
how tiny humanity can
be
its achievement of
heights
can portray men as
ants
trees as mere spots
of green
roads as nothing but
the tiny lines of
a pen
when you are on top and
you look down
you cannot help but
shiver
on your feet
thinking: what if we all
fall?
what if there is really
nothing up
but only whiffs of clouds
and the complete silence
of too much space?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem