When you travel,
there is no road. Only your
feet are in air, hands holding the sky.
You are lucky, you are
very tall. A long rope binds you
with Himalayas. To track the next world.
Living in isolation,
you can find the mystery of human
nature. You want to read The Tempest again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem