The night was young but we were not
inside at least
and we knew not what to do
with our lives or was it all worth it
worth anything
and the wine was none
and as the spirit of the beatniks past sang to us
we closed our eyes and fed on the sound
coming from our old stereo
and wished for something more
or maybe less
and at that moment
we suddenly realized
the sound we were hearing all along
was the road calling for us
inviting us out there
somewhere and anywhere
to set us free once again
and we knew not how to accept the call
but wished to leave this town well behind
and finally become one with life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem