walking with my shadow
I dont remember you
I dont remember your rememberence
even I forget my memory.
I watch my steps
not to smash the head of a child
not to snatch the lost hope of a mother's begging.
the sleeping ones, in real, are awaken
in the dreams of others
washing their cars,
or taking out rotten bread of the dustbin
or having polish the shoes.
among many things
one can find
and sacked dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem