listening to Beethoven's symphony no.9
the boy when asked after says that it is the
same feeling when you finally find what you've
been looking for, and back home, i listen again
to the same symphony and what i feel about it.
i am still trying to find what i lost so that
i may find it again, perhaps because i am not
a boy anymore, and much had been lost through
time which swiftly flew like a bird that i never
knew, by the window to the sky, a dot gone
in the eternity of turmoil and tantrums.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem