Running through meadows of the past, looking forward to
climbing mountains, standing beyond a forest of storms,
waiting heavily under nighttime stars.
Reaching for answers, hoping walking will bring them
from depths of inner rhythms that have been playing
incessantly.
Tomorrow being expected to bring a promise of better
things to come in the future.
Not able to stand the directives of unhappy people,
trying to place their own unhappiness onto others,
walking away, beyond encounters with them.
Going into mountains freshly scented with nature,
harboring a freedom that can be given to those who
choose to be broken from the shackles of turmoil.
Pleasant moments once again being able to be produced
in quantities large enough to be given throughout the
remainder of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem