Towering Construction
The structures you are drawing
are crumbling in the draft.
You ground on liquid light
with pastel-coloured confidence,
encompassing those undiscovered worlds around.
You rise and fall
through crevices and cracks in your reflection,
destroy your mirror of the world.
That hope for durability will drown
while grasping for a hold in icy space.
You drift on melting towers,
merge with others who still
cling to solid ground.
Why are you building
castles in the air?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem