Life is a picture puzzle with pieces and fragments lying everywhere, waiting for people to pick them up, placing them in empty spaces, not attributed to anyone in particular.
Looking to the future and days that may be more fitting while we roam together over and across boundaries and limits that just seem to be countered and have slipped away.
Disappearing every night beneath the bed until another day begins to bloom with a new and alluring morning of a brand new day beginning once again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem