The blossom blooms then falls
The tide ebbs then flows
I am ill but I am not ill
That's the way it goes;
A pang of fear
A surge of relief
Gather up the storm clouds
Catch the falling leaf;
An open wound,
A chance to heal
A void, a numbness
Then once more to feel;
Stretching bounds
Then shortended stride
A river in flood
A crevice in the mountainside;
Keep me moving
Bring me to a halt
But it's not you doing it
It's all my fault.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem