Beneath a meteor shower in cold November
wrapped in a duvet on an old lounging chair,
stretched out, watching streaks of flaming embers
race across the dark, crystal clear midnight air,
I almost wished upon one bright shooting star;
but checked greed's impulse as I remembered there
a saying my father taught, brought from afar
‘he who wants all misses all'.
so I lived in the moment, given by that star.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem