I long to see what I've not seen
and hear what I've not heard.
And the longing is a constant.
It keeps the heart of me stirred.
Maybe 'tis just a dream I have
that may not come to pass.
But to give up on this dream I think
is like a half-filled glass.
And I am an optimistic fool
that pictures the glass half full.
I won't allow myself to see it half empty
for to me that's pitiful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem