There are times in my life when the wandering wind,
with a power I’ve found it will never rescind,
lifts me up its arms and then sweeps me away.
I've not mastered control of each eddy and swirl,
or the twists in my flight, or the speed of my whirl.
When the wind throws me down, as it tires of the play,
it shows little concern when my body is pinned,
that my mind is still pure, though my body has sinned.
I'm alone if I leave, I'm alone if I stay,
unobtrusive by night, unobtrusive by day.
I am lost in the swamp; I am bogged in the mire.
I am freezing to death as I search for the fire.
I'm a light in the night that's too distant to see
the right fire to acquire that will turn my soul free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem