I no longer stand
like a boulder.
Most doors open.
But I'm in a maze
and the landscapes
remain the same.
The last time
I broke the wall,
it was a dam's,
and I got up,
washed up,
on another land,
in another maze.
No! I wouldn’t break
another wall
but trudge
through the doors
till I feel grass
till my hips.
and only then
I will doze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem