there is nothing actually wrong with
going back to the arms of the past
upon whose embrace we feel so young
again,
you wish upon that old star which should
not have fallen
which should have stayed brighter on that
old sky hanging
but this is not so. There are fallings and failings.
Fangs of reverses. The venom of a snake
hurt.
what happens is when you are finally there
everyone is not there anymore.
Not even yourself.
Do not fret. Go.Move. Raise your hand.
Praise.Grow your wings and fly...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem