I speak a different language,
standing on a different stage.
Being in a crowd,
I never speak out loud.
Beneath the stars, walking home,
never felt so alone.
The familiar breeze blows,
the river flows.
Gazing at my front door,
I've never felt so sore.
I spun around,
sprinted off without a sound.
The tears in my eyes,
representing the many lies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem