Although at times, it´s arrive a gust
that feels nuanced by a grassrot level.
It drops but still
takes an intersection at.
Zigzag it´s going by
And everything feels inoffensive.
Relates to something ornate,
however peculiarly pass by.
The drop can erode the stone…
But a sincere and natural déjà vu
says that they who seeks, finds it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem