With a bird’s-eye-view, I watched intently
days gone by, and danced about me
people came and people went
but seldom not the same
until I fell beneath the pane
and then, face-down
I only saw night
A pitch-black so dark
the sun could not find
and years passed, or minutes
but I wished for the view.
The only one I knew.
The book knows entirely
and does not change with time
but instead the mind which reads
has grown and sees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem