Ribbons scribbling their way across mountains and
deserts below us, showing trails which go no where.
Winding themselves off and on over landscapes of
our world, belittling no one as they give examples
of what we are about.
Always circling in mazes of our own doing, we
cryptically sidestep reality, preferring a
subconscious terrain instead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem