My backpack is filled with used memories
As I trudge down the lonely road time charted for me.
Friends and lovers come and go
Our roads go together for a tiny while
Before time hollers, ' That is enough
now you go your separate ways'.
I started alone and alone I'll reach
Where the road's end is marked by my waiting grave.
Of all that I met on my way ahead
Only my backpack carries some tiny specks.
Crossroads abound, filled with fun and sound
I pick up their nuggets into my pack
But one way roads only lead from them
Barred to me, as they are for other souls.
I can see my grave simmer through the dusts of future
I slacken my pace and try to look back
but the road I came by has totally vanished
Only my backpack holds some of its traces.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I can see my grave simmer through the dusts of future I slacken my pace and try to look back but the road I came by has totally vanished Only my backpack holds some of its traces. Nice and lovely.