At opposing tracks
they ran:
foreign, then home.
Chasing one another
but not ever near.
And when met:
barely a facade, whence both thread
but not ever together.
Even voices heard
one side to the other
left misunderstood.
Until each return
home, home, home.
Where the first wakes
before the tired sleeps
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a fabulous poem