At the table served as a desk
He who listened to me
while I was explaining the praxis
with glitter in his eyes
and his face coy
was the boy like I was five years ago
On the bus on the way back home
He who stared outside the window
while the cityscape was quickly passing by
with journey etched on his face
and his look obstruse
was the gentlemen like I would be in five year
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes! That is the nature of life! Enjoy every phase!