I once met a man,
Full of life but,
Paralysed,
Wheeled to a chair.
Every step I made
He followed
Motionlessly,
Pacing with me.
I walked up to him
And engaged him
On a long talk,
And he never stopped.
He talked passionately
Of how he would walk,
To places he loves
Rolling over the fields.
Kicking stones and balls,
While walking down
To the end
Of the curves of life.
Then he smiled continuously
Tapping his lap profusely
"My wheelchair does the same"
He mumbled and left.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem