I am a balloon,
Or, so it may seem,
light in step and transparent.
Burning cigarette in hand...
Walking amidst,
separated clouds...
Undistinguished in my mind.
A storm is awaiting; a simple complex tear;
when the sharp point of a word...
Comes to taunt me.
I am a red balloon,
my thoughts shift uncomfortably...
Rotating in continuum:
their airy backs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem with a nice flow as the Autumn breeze, love it and added 10.