being used to travel
one gets used to being dissipated
another arrival
another departure
in such a short time
with such a moment with someone
another someone
another temporary feeling
not even love
not even another feeling anymore
another travel
asking: where am i going to?
being used to
being used
to dreams that never come true
now on another train
to another bus
on another plane
each question begs for an answer
but for now
there is just this blankness
this bluntness
no conversations with another
passenger
just like myself
asking: where am i going to?
now, i don't ask anymore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem