Wrapped in cloth, can't feel the wind.
It rains, yet I remain outside,
Not trapped within cold hard finite walls,
the mind reduced to finity,
no life no hope, no freedom to roam.
Instead I stay outside,
a place of great beauty.
The trees hibernate
Yet the beautiful chaotic intricacy
of the branches reaches out to the sun,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem