Realize..
Something I realized..
Why does love
have a different shape...
An odd shape? !
When you are in a
ferris wheel...
What counts?
The people with you
Or
The view as you go up
Or does the importance shift
With every trip?
Used tissues,
Snowflakes are the floor,
Almost melting,
Anonymous bystanders
Unaware of the unseen beauty
Could anything change
When you only looked at one side?
Or
Does things have to change
For it to be perceived?
And
The cirrus clouds
Passed slowly,
Peacefully by.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great deal of philosophical territory covered in a fairly brief poem. I especially like the stanza about the ferris wheel and how each ride can have a different focus, a different 'view.' Maybe one thing that has been lost in our mile-a-minute age: the joy of witnessing the slowness of things, like a flower that takes several days to open, or the majestic crossing of a cloud across an azure sky, or even the simple geometric beauty of a tissue on the floor. Nice poem. It sort of reminds me of the film American Beauty.