Hands of wind gently scratching the atmosphere, daring not
to alight upon earth.
Fragilly floating, testing everything, seeking to find a
save place to settle in.
Taking in long dregs of heady air, sweetened with passing
of ages, stepping in time.
Lifetime memories filling ideas of today, rearranging every
day occurrences within future frames of mind.
Telling tales of old, getting caught up in events never
spoken of aloud.
Darkened tunnels, hiding deeds which never rise above the
ground, never see the light of day, angrily pacing corridors,
trying to find a way out of nightmares.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem