If we really have to trace
each trail
we will arrive at the conclusion
that we do not really know
how we have reached here:
the success stories in our heads
the fortunes in our hands,
the wisdom that lands inside our hearts
the moments are there felt but
what explanation do we really give it?
i was weak, my bones are threadlike
my wit a nit, my ears are like slits of lights
i do not really know what changed me
you look at me with envy and i am humiliated
for i do not know what made me
perhaps, it is this belief, this faith
this goodness that seeds in me that grows
into a tree of life
i do not know now, i am thrown here
i do not have a name, my body is not mine
my nerves have become streams
my mind all unknown places
my heart a paradise, my eyes all stars
everything are windows to the world
that i live and so believe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem