Roiling with anger, seething beneath the surface while
nothing can be seen except a placid profile, unrecogniz-
able to those who care to look at it.
Wandering alone up and down pathways, through ravines of
life that capture and hold the attention of intellect,
solely intent on living in talent innately.
Watching everything very carefully, not wanting to miss
a single detail, traversing through picturesque landscapes
of tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem