Make a wish, though it may not come true.
Do it anyway, it is up to you.
I wish my fate was written on stone,
I desire to know how my life will go.
But for now, I'll walk blindfolded on a thin rope.
200 feet up in the air.
As the wind blows, threatening to make me fall.
I stay steady, through it all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem