This whereby I fly
I come around
sometimes I have been so high
much less settled in
I know, more so rustled
since my time began
I rook, tis an evil pawn
rinse above this surface
I am gathering in these wings
stroke of having never luck
I am blessed more the so
for by my name
I am so called
the dust of wind
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Tajma. You may like to read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks