The wind blows swiftly
Waiting for the night to fall
On his knees or on his back
The windchill makes you a doll
The doll that he patiently watches
As it crosses the set boundaries
And ignores all the crosses
For tomorrow it is his turn
To dance, to perform and to trick the nightfall
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem