Awake, alert, writing, having no urges to fall asleep just
yet, mind wandering down hapless lanes of hope and promise,
wanting to find directions in which to now go.
Spider-like, falling into ravines, catching hold, grasping
all that is good for another even now, forever preserving
the cacophony of youth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem