the hands have opened
letting go
the cold seeds of the rainy days
past
and for a time now after this
lousy talk
that afternoons share with us
looking for the meaning of our days
we finally find ourselves
walking the trails of the
empty handed
'i am so light'
you tell the wind
and then the wind with its mist
carries you away
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem