behold the distance, they vanish,
even if they try hard to sail upon the deep,
accepted is the sleep and not the flip,
with fate so finished,
with fear so incomplete,
with doubt so be a fantasy,
thoughts being dubiously hidden behind the closet,
instincts hanging at the vague of the fence,
a sell-off of emotions to the thin,
spaciously covered within a wide range of opportunities,
waiting for an action of conduct,
take a bright flight towards the light,
ought you pass, you not fall in the dust,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem