We would often talk about the text
Amidst light-hearted moments of desperation
And we would quote the preacher
"The race is not to the swift
Nor the bread to the clever"
It had grown into a prayer
A tantalizing fantasy—a dream deferred
Then one day
In the small hours of the day
The eyes sleepy and the mind dreamy
I received it.
And like a satisfied mouse, I slept some more
Wishing never to awaken from the dream
Remembering the hard times
Remembering being swept away by rejection
Swimming and sweating in the sea of mediocrity
Then it hit me again
Maybe it was not a dream?
Why was everything shockingly real?
Why was my room still old and creamy?
The chirping birds?
I picked the phone again
And re-read the text
My face dissolved into a smile
My mind was in wonderland
So, a dream can actually be fulfilled?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem