When the journey beckons and the mind reckons the silence of the night. The paralleling wind that course upon the travel of the emotions and thoughts. Within the realms that attach the long for a settle upon the skies of darknesses. The urge that streamline the soul with the blowing wind swirling and swaying their depths to merge liken the en-routing wind. The unknown that's born within the course of the night that might adverse at a later time. The eye leveling of the mystery that might surround and around a long history.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem