Sometimes I don't want to be the being I am
I just want to be the wind that from the North comes,
Like a leaf I wish to drift away on the current of the wind
Without aim, without destination, nothing in life to find,
Like a colt I wish my life to jump over the bunds of joy
So that I can hug life as baby clings to his toy.
Sometimes I do want to be the being I am not
I want to be a child who counts the stars at night laying carelessly on the cot,
Like a bee I wish to see the beautious flowers around me
So that I can submerge myself in the nector of their sea,
I just want to be free
Like these birds perching on the bunyan tree.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem