Yellow, rotten leaves
Hanging down the trees
Either side they stand
Like the guards they cover me...
Beautiful, red, flowers
Spreads around the floor...
Like a velvet carpet they seem...
Walking down the path
With no facades
A wanderer I am...
The malicious crowd far away...
Anchored to none of the earthy objects
Floating on the waves of curiosity...
A crazy loon they call me...
For I walk in the forest...
Upon unseen wakes of life
I wander in harmony...
The pentagram of gusto
Shines bright over me,
Lighting my path...
Call me whatever you what
For I know I care about none...
Craving only bliss I am...
Wandering down this magnificent mansion...
Bound to none I am...
An epitome of freedom is what I own...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem