I am looking for something.
Who knows what I am looking for?
I am comfortable but not contented.
No idea why but my life seems a mystery tour.
Life is often halting at jolly good places.
I am inhaling the warmth of all these places.
But something is always missing in almost everything.
May be I am looking for a smell or color, what is yet evasive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem