Every day
When I search,
I find a new atlas
Of my own path.
A small point
I see much,
Extended and extended
By an unknown,
But still I am still
To see the technique
And waiting for a pleasure
to make someone unknown.
waiting for pleasure, and what is that pleasure? Is it permanent? what is permanent? A poet should go searching all these.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful write Tadasha. We keep on searching for something and believe me its never ending....Loved it.