we cross the seas wanting to see the bigger waves
the other islands
we sail the rivers to hear the beauty of its songs
we go uphill we want to see the world from another eyes
we want to change some views
we plan to make changes of our lives
we want to trim some trees to desired shapes
we want to be familiar with other paths
we compare we make arrangements for new ways
we spend so much time
talking and partaking their drinks and food
seeking new combinations of tastes
then we stop and decide to come home at last
we make some notes
we bring dirty clothes and some new pictures
new memories
nothing compares still
to this home
to be back and make this conclusion
we live better because we smell this smell that we still love
this old home these old selves still wanting be be nothing
but just these old selves
at home and still lovers and friends
you are home at last and you check if your plants in the garden did not die
i go to my room and hold the blanket to my nose
this is the smell of home
this old self this sweetness of who i am
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem