I am't the duration of a breath
Nor the flick of a bird's wing
I do not fly-by, as time does
Haste I shan't bring
I can but quicken the pace
The pace I walk so stiff
Time is not my air
To be palpable; hark, a myth
Whence the wind pushes me
I falleth to the earth
To let my feet aloft;
To anchor me, my girth
But yet my heart lingers
To make this flame grow bold
The fire that cannot wetten
It suffocates the old...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
its like when i read it... its good...