I’m longing for something, everybody longs for;
Roses between the Iron bars;
A cascade of stars in the icy lakes;
A lingering sweetness in the salty flakes.
Thorns seem sweet to me, as they are the truth;
Whence flowers standing at the top,
Appear to be mere dream booth.
The gifts that nature has provided are partially favoured;
Where dreams are sweet and reality bitterly flavoured.
Every minute drives us near to peace;
While every second tends to cease.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.