I rarely go with the flow,
always pushing,
impatient,
moving always into action.
But sitting here still,
as I have to,
then things arise,
words,
sadnesses,
appreciations.
Perhaps I rush to
close the trap,
keep the movement
of reflections' tide
at bay.
Yet the waves delight
as much as scare,
and I am washed
joyful,
all my loved ones with me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This one appeals to me a great deal.