I'm always surrounded
by any people
who never wanted to be happy
in their own destiny.
It boils in me
the will of the traveler
of wanting to leave
I've never been in other place,
except those in which I needed to be
– just for necessity... nothing else.
To Montreal I've never traveled,
but it must be better than here.
And maybe any place is that:
a refuge to the excess of monotony.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
A poem with gloomy and with loneliness. WELL DONE