it is this traveling
that perhaps can make you
forget
roads are the roller coasters of our minds
trees are trickles of green on each side
always moving
on and on
without exhaustion
viewing everything that is always
new to
our own liking
i do not have a specific destination
each place beyond me is a question
the sad past like the wind that meets our faces
becomes another place of the heart that we leave behind
we are moving people
seated on our couches
still in deep thought
as scenes change every moment
our eyes are always strangers
trekking pathways
consuming roads
without a definite end
on an unknown duration
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem