I sailed upon the seven seas,
Visited exotic far of lands.
My home I sought to find.
How familiar the surroundings seem,
How strange the feel of drifting sand.
But in the morning as I awake,
All my dreams, all my plans,
Now emerge and sound so fake.
If books are gateways to escape,
Then a library I fear it would take.
If wine truly is a strong sedative,
Fill my cup, for I should not wish to live.
For the curse of love, the cure unknown.
No surgeon, doctor, scientist to mend,
The heartache when its seeds are sown.
Hardys’ land it seamed so grand,
A postcard it could make.
But even he did tell some tales,
And the statue it did quake.
The need to find a place within the pack,
Why surrender, why so fake?
When only criticised for what they lack.
Funny Leonardo, you made them think,
Stand up, be strong and don’t hesitate.
With a child’s clear untainted heart you find,
The true world, as adults are too late.
Don’t let your young mind be fooled,
For bide your time, and stand in line.
For there are those, that can be schooled.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem