It´s almost time
for the landscape
to blur, for minutes
to pass the eye
Noises with currents,
electric night movements
For the familiar
to once again cease
To feel the Earth
moving beneath my feet
There was a beacon
one time, blazing a fire,
moving so near
but never to touch
The fear of being rooted
is sometimes too much
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem