Waving gently across the air, blowing visions of yesterday into tomorrow's plan.
Scratching the surface with the indelible ink of fate, echoing always over the years, becoming a beacon to follow.
Light years fluctuating on tides of reprieve, sending foamy messages to outer edges of subconsciousness.
Relieving pressures of yesterday, continuing life in freedom's interior solace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem