Archways reaching to the sky, narrowed slightly - listening to
silence measured out in moments.
Rigidly setting aside minutes of each day, attempting to sidle
up to quiet times.
Thruways lining streets of thickest woods, narrowing closely,
views of life.
Setting sights somewhere in outer atmospheres' allows life down
here to breathe.
Freely attained, passed down from eons ago, our lives are simply
rearranged as each new day begins.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem