Slowly saddling the past and bringing it into a future of plenty.
No one can fathom which direction to go in, after limiting excessive potential and turning it over to some turban headed ghost, finding spaces of time being spliced by electrical promises of wonder-making.
Trying to become a part of something better, ending in apologies for what they'd never do and have never done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem