THE POEM AT THE END OF THE WALK
The poem at the end of the walk
Does not know
Whether or not it will come into being-
Why a poem now?
Because the pen is in my hand
And I have some minutes to wait
And the world outside
Has so much light and beauty,
And I am quiet inside
After the long walk
Before the day of work
Not tired.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem