We are travelers all
Vagrants, gypsies on this fickle path
Pitching tents on shifting sands under stranger suns
Staring at stars that cannot recognize us
Spinning constellations on random dots
Do you lament the sunset?
Can you count the souls as they drift away?
Can you smell their essence on the vanishing breeze?
Can you feel the lost skin and touch of lovers gone?
And yet we sing
And yet we cry
And yet we love
This life awaits no one
Best we follow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem