Stretched far and wide,
Are the piles of sands
The waves of wind creates
Thousands at a time and
Thus recreates another with
The strong sway, making fool
The beholder mingles one
With the other, I look for
The first one, lose the second
Third and innumerable...
Turns the number, but
None to be mine one and
Only sand dune, my footprint
Runs to be one with the other,
Gets nothing, only a whirling,
A very clear whirling of sand
Breaking one after another into
Gulleys and again into dunes.
I also turn to be a dot, in the
Sea of sand, a mere dot!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I guess we are just a dot in this life, the same as on your sand dune, a lovely poem.