Small and wet were the eyes
of the children
that followed, gently, absently.
traced the balloon's tail
as it suspended
shyly
as if waiting for an affirming nod
something sure
something solid
when surrounded by such whimsical wisps of cloud
that threatened to suffocate
with their cotton folds.
The balloon hung
waiting to be let adrift
these vast oceans above
to be loose and with trust
in the wind
it itself was a jewel
entrusted to the sky
and so soon sought
yet now forever lost
as it's lurid capture
by cruel fingers of trees
is inevitable.
Will it's surface
so filmy
fragile, snag?
or elude these creatures
and move on,
be free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem