I think I should cross every limit of my ideas,
But suddenly I ask myself where is the limit?
Has anyone ever checked the rage of storm
Or restricted the ebb and flow of the tide?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
resting on words so benign silence listening still I talk the winds and talk the clouds the sounds that pierce the sky of call the fall of whispers hand caught and left to fly across the sunlit ground till I fade out till I fade out