Higher than the atmosphere, I feel myself within clouds,
looking down upon earth, wondering when I'm going to crash.
Thinking about death, watching it circumvent attitudes,
as it slowly revolves, taking no notice of my reluctance
to be around when it decides to haunt me unmercifully.
Wrongly falling into patterns, subjecting me to stressful
situations.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem