its rare to find that feeling deep..
that exhaustion, that merry creep..
its good to keep that shiny medal..
the one that rocks the heavy cradle..
sometimes we sing a song in the heart..
praying one day it won't leave our mind..
but just like a sharp pointed
dart..
we get pierced so hard, we seek and don't find...
beautiful things given to us are free..
but we always tend ti climb the wrong mountains..
but to all mankind I whole heartedly plea...
that we take a step at a time..
we will find the fountain...we will
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem