This is a small town
Where a road begins and ends
Within a space of nothing.
And where the chances are that
You run into yourself
So often, quick and soon
That the sense of wonder of life
Dissolves.In the repetitive rythm of life
Without making even a single splash.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This isn't bad. It may be my favorite one of your poems so far.