I'm standing in a queue for fulfilled dreams,
with people dressed in forced smiles
- scholars, labourers and street children,
who flawlessly say the first two letters of the alphabet.
I look at them when they toss about in the net of life events,
when they read books, when they buy bread.
And when they look for salvation
- new space of new time,
with hope and clarity of mind, to be able to look into the dark future,
- for the short days of their glory,
that I will be measuring by long verses.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem