Ephemeral ballooning in midnight skies, catching rays
of light to guide the way.
Stretching beyond any grief, we flow into thin air
on the back of a leave.
Soothing our discrepancies with agility and prayer,
sometimes we fall from our tightropes of life.
Somehow finding our way through dark nights in a
desert, holding our souls gently in cupped hands,
afraid of letting them soar to God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem