just walk the lonely road
nothing happens anyway
except
the moving distance
the mirage
what life seems to be
is a running river
at the middle of this desert
we all dream of water
there is none but we dream anyway
somehow
there will be water inside those deepest
recesses of our mind
somewhere there will be an oasis
some palm trees
sweet dates and strong wine
and hot tea and smoke
and when darkness comes
i am sure there will be this moon
for all of us
there will be music within our hearts
some stories to tell
to lessen the sadness
to quell this madness
to fill this emptiness
the black birds perching on the trees
shall listen but they will not be sleeping
let us not die yet
the vultures are not that hungry
to false hopes we shall anchor
the weariness of our hardened souls
it does not matter
for in this lonely road we are only told
to walk and then we move on and on
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem