There is nothing to be said of the echoes
reverberating through the essence of my
being or the waves that distort my dreams.
The invisible hands that shaped eternity
are the same that makes the birds sing,
and I ask myself what here is their left to be
learned. My words in vain attempt to explain
so many unanswerable things, yet in my
ignorance I carry on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The unanswerable lingers, just below he surface, but we must carry on. Lovely poem David.