That road, lone; Can I hear it?
Yes I can. Oh I can!
Dusty, upblown; calling me back. No
Summers ever outran!
Through what is as bothersome
And unsettling, as is
In each free urge, urge to be unfound
Heart finds hard to dismiss.
Each knowing which trait in us
Ingrained, in common
Is to blame. Pleasant, in his own peace
Abiding, that drones on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem