As I ran towards the cliff,
I felt the screaming winds
Telling a story I can’t hear
From other worlds and near.
It must have flown through miles a dozen
Calling and listening to time.
Flowing across like water against stone
Too bad it can’t be mine…
To control it would be wonder,
To abuse it would be shame.
Just to listen and hear it’s stories,
Would be glory to all who can name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem