My story is brief
I lived and died,
I lost my name
Due to a fright;
I will not return
To fail again or
Pay for a wrong
I did not commit,
That is the right
I can well avail.
Written on stone
Are the formulae
To make me ride
The thinnest air
Like a slight seed
That climbs high.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A seed too small Yet climb high On the ride I made Some big And some small But all make it work. Beautiful fantasy woven. Thank-you sir.