That star on which I wished upon,
Died millions of years ago.
Can my wish still come to be?
Once night has turned to dawn,
Should I just go with the daily flow?
Or wonder where my wish truly is in the galaxy.
Did my wish reach its destiny?
Why wonder, what is the point?
Once it arrives there will be nothing, death.
Perhaps it found a new star, fantasy?
Sorry to disappoint,
I can smell it on your breath.
The truth is, wishes are nothing but merely unaccomplished goals,
Things we could not do on our own.
So we had to turn to something else to make them seem attainable.
We have broken all of life’s controls,
And now need to postpone,
All of our goals until the perfect star is obtainable.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem