Maybe what I know,
Is what you think I will never know,
And this is why my silence is explained.
I would like to dream,
but the dream is limited and not free.
The wings are broken,
It's so hard to see,
In this weather of emotion,
that I am forced to be.
There will be no future to the past,
That is not continued.
But there is past to the future,
That would have been stopped.
The dreams are swirling
I'm giving in.
The fight is so constant that it is within me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem