I speak aloud to one and all,
Sharing my concerns and fears.
I might as well talk to a wall,
I speak but no one hears.
It seems my voice just flows away
On a wind racing for the shore.
Wasted are the frail words say,
My views are mere folklore.
I write the thoughts inside my head,
Poetry of life and meads.
It seems the words have all but fled,
I write but no one reads.
To me the reason is unclear,
It's a mystery at most.
I wonder if I'm even here,
Am I alive or just a ghost?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem