bowl of cereals and mix nuts
absorbing whiteness of milk
feed to hungry blood stream
maybe this has life of its own
journey will stop here; isn't it
this will meet mouth of a fish
it seems that everything ends
to somewhere mostly to sea
it takes time but eventually
there's one thing i think that
it won't go to sea; you keep
that's your problems; worry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem