We ignore the churchbells.
Our free-will traps our minds,
and we become lost in
options that have no ends.
Like the roads and highways,
we can travel round the
whole earth if we so choose.
The options are all there.
But roads to the churchbells
are planty few. and they
come without luxury,
pavement, or a good view.
They don't go to cities,
but rather to our souls,
where the road of our life
begins and quickly ends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem