The Wanderer Poem by Chris Ernest Nelson
The Wanderer
Strangely the wanderer looking back
at the path he has trodden finds
that he has ever been walking
to the place where he stands.
Though staggering like a blind man,
turning right at every crossroads,
he made his way alone. Still
the road divides again.
There are so many roads ahead.
There is only one road behind.
Striding or stumbling along,
he has arrived at last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/9/2024 3:35:03 PM # 1.0.0.1119
