Riding into traffic, letting this mind wander aimlessly,
not caring about anything much, just existing and being
self, the only one I know how to be.
Quiet, self-assured, confident, standing in the ability
of innate talents, sacrificing friendship at times, just
to be able to write and exist in intellect.
Holding hands with imagination, taking nothing to heart,
just playing with words and thoughts jutting into this
mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem