guess not
but i live in a different world
not yours
it is dimmer
but it is mine
it is not as joyful
as the bells
of the church
or as naive as the
wind chimes
by the window
but it is mine
i live here
contentedly
watching everyone
that passes
my way
at night when i sleep
i am confident
with the pillow
conscience rests
peacefully as
the moon
above the trees
as fresh as the
wind to the
leaves
as scented as the
flowers
beside the paths
of righteousness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem