Not a traveler but traveling,
Behind the unknown and virtual thing,
One way fog and night in other way,
Crying for the help for a bright wing.
I can't see much enough,
Nor the destination or a sketch rough,
Neither known beside fog,
There is heaven or a drowning bog.
Are my feelings the unrealistic fake?
If not, why He ma'them take?
Quite confusing but more regretting,
Can't my though the realistic make?
I pray to God and further fro,
'May to my paradise I can go! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem