The wide blue yonder
above our head
seen but never reached
a pattern of air and water
the impossible dream
a trigger of imagination
the reach we can never grasp.
Is this a heaven?
Nothing lives there but our longings, our hopes
it’s a cold place
where each of us goes alone,
limitless, apparently,
unsubstantial, indeterminate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem