that we are
never satisfied is
an accepted
phenomenon
the other is always
incomplete
the beautiful house
is never finished
this and that is
always possessing the
finishing touches
one's life is always
an unfinished business
that stair is asking
for another step
a mountain waits for
it is never that high
no path is even a dead
end to a vagabond
and so there they are
open-minded
Sahara deserts dreaming
of rain, of snow, of dew....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem