The wind
is in the hearts
of all those heads
dreaming.
It whistles
over mountains
rich with
red apples and honey.
You have a ticket. It reads:
To Somewhere.
Some time is taken.
Someone is listening.
Trainstop.
And you could sit next to me,
maybe for a while.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very sweet journey BWF, thanks for the ride, Tai