Inside, imaginary wheels are turning, mixing sorrow
and joy of a lifetime.
It's taste is bittersweet, it's smell, that of a
funeral home filled with beautiful flowers.
Capturing the essence of life within this shell of
a body is a mysterious event and I cannot figure
out it's meanings.
Living life day to day, exhausting all possibilities,
laying them aside in peace-filled restless slumber.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem