Sitting and thinking I wonder to myself,
How many people reach their dreams?
How may achieve their goals?
Or does it all end in screams?
I sit with my mind wandering,
My eyes glassy with thoughts,
Will I get my dream job?
Are dreams an illusion of sorts?
I guess I've been lucky,
That one in a million,
I'm finally on the road,
A step closer to a wild stallion.
I don't care how long it takes,
Even if I need to cross the desert plains,
I will ride the wind,
Down the twisting lanes.
I guess I'm a poet,
And I guess I'm a minstrel,
A person who tells stories on their travels,
If only life could be as simple.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem