What if tomorrow the birds silent themselves to me?
Lying below disquiet yellow and red leaves,
Seeing their shadows sailing within the wind,
And the sun is shining far behind my eyes.
Until tomorrow, what path have I truly followed?
Imagining what shall stumble upon ahead is difficult, hoping
And realized that nature does not dream toward perfection,
For there is something which linger beyond, after the fire and the
Ash is blown away by the wind.
Though I still ask “what if tomorrow…..”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem