Racing to the finish line, wanting to cross over to the
other side.
Never faltering or wavering, heading straight for it's
ending stance once reaching it.
Never losing sight of it, pausing only to catch my breath,
no other reason to proclaim or hold on.
Violet sensations are slipping away, turning us within
secrets of a place called yesterday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem