I am the walker,
Holding the hands of a lord,
Or on lonely self,
Or in a mass of a horde,
I am the walker,
Toward the atomic precision
Of the next second,
And I am the walker,
Toward the heated
Uncertainty of the next step,
I am the walker,
Through the cemetery grounds,
Or the chapel yard,
I am the walker,
Over the bodies,
Or under the glory,
Over the top,
Or under the story,
I am the walker,
Wandering solid steps,
Over ethereal ground,
And when I stopped,
Was not even later,
That I saw even there,
I couldn't stand,
For future was strides,
Of unavoidable fate,
And there was no late,
I was back on the move,
For if future is the walking,
Then I am the walker
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem