I AM thinking
i agree with what the wind is telling
that from afar
some good news are waiting
and i bloat myself with hope
feeling like cotton
soft and useful
the wind left
and i waited for days for the coming of good news
like a cure for instance
for loneliness
or a miracle for the healing of a friend
who is dying
beside me
hands clasped towards heaven
for the skies to listen
I am thinking that the wind may have simply pitied our situation
and lied
and will not come back and stop
for we will always
remind about him about the good news
I am thinking
there are times when out of pity the ones that come here
say words
that they do not mean
and then
i sit again holding the hands of the dying friend
giving him
the good news from the warmth of my hand
it does not speak of healing
i does not want to remember anything
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem