One day I will go to the city of my dreams
and become dust in the dust of the city streets
Day dreamers for life
live such a life
When did I leave the home?
Well, what home am I heading to now?
The first thing of death, my dear sir
is the death of feelings
Without being too close or too aloof
if you want to go, you must go
In the sad and noisy streets
your heart will travel silently
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem