there are times when i simply stand
beside a rail
on a platform that looks out to the sea
that does not exist
seagulls of the mind fly like white foams
fishing
for thoughts and digesting what solid resolves
are.
then the mind becomes a cloud that drifts
on another floating orange horizon
then the body becomes a river looking for
its banks
and then the eyes blink undecided
whether to become a moon
or a star
there are times when i simply sit and watch
time going by
and there is no certain direction
but i simply let all these doubts pass
hoping that they all die
like some kind of martyrs
namelessly
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem