A young boy stands on the top of a hill,
His kite is flying towards the snow-white clouds,
He narrows his eyes to better his vision,
Finally away from all the shouts.
As the kite comes closer and closer to the sky,
And the boy wishes on everything he knows,
To be flying alongside his toy, towards peace,
A place where true happiness grows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem