The man travels coast to coast
He lives in motel rooms
Then he complains the spouse
Not able to do what he wants
He will scout and will hunt
Pretend to be a lonely one
You have to be on guard
Or smart not to fall apart
I find that unappealing
Not to find real love in one place
Not to be able to touch and feel
The warmth and essence of life
He is the traveling man
Must get high with the speed
But may have left his soul
Somewhere in flight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem