Switching pictures of life in mid-stride, wanting to
change ideas and set out on my own, leaving the echoes
of the past reverberating in canyons forever.
Rushing forward into the silence of the sun, dawdling
in rays of the moon late at night and never making up
my mind which direction to go when I set out on my own.
Older now, and much wiser, I walk on pathways of
destiny, not wanting to veer from final sights at the
end, walking into the sunset and out of my senior years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem