it is the wheel of this caromata
that makes the grinding sound of
the sand and gravel spread on the
road that shall lead us all to home.
i miss that sound now that i have
this innova car well closed and
air conditioned with the sound
of the cd's rock music says that
i must forget you.
you're my home. and i cannot
just forget its warm pillow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem