Thought is a kite that will not soar.
Pull taut the string.
Run, run, to give it lift and take off.
Pay out and stretch, steer,
Let it float and find a drift,
A wafting breath.
Let it soar or dip and dive,
Dither in the sky or zoom
To its own air space and live
Or come again to earth.
- - - - -
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem