Passageway Poem by David Blake
Passageway
Having no place to call home, I
wander all the night long. A
shadowy figure among the
dreams of man living simply
and free, without any regrets.
Possessing nothing that is
mine but my memories, I
search in vain for things that
to me remain unseen. Alive
only in the sense that I breathe,
I deserve nothing more than
thins, dwelling among the
clouds lost in the haze of my
sin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 1:23:59 AM # 1.0.0.1119
