Why this sadness,
This distress in my chest?
If the wind has always been free!
He blows when he wants,
He messes my hair
He raises my skirt.
He even whirls my thoughts!
But that's how the wind is:
Invisible...
Inconstant...
Unforseeable...
Indispensable...
So indispensable!
I don't know what is that saddens me...
If I can neither see him nor touch him!
If I could never do it...
If only when he blows
I listen to his voice
between the foliage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem