So many times I have said:
'God! How I don't belong in this place! '
Still I kept my pace
Greedy, hopeful, lonesome and sad.
My beach-town had changed face
By corruption and misgovernment
Even before I went,
Into this illusory golden race.
So it wasn't a rare moment
When I had this nagging fear
Of aging and dying here
In exiled estrangement.
But finally may be near
The day of reconciling
With the land where I live in.
Because, strange as they might be,
Learning to march by their drum
Taught me more on who I am
Than staying by the sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for the comment. Your Starry Vigil is excelent.