Accentuated portrayals of life stand on corners,
searching for meanings of their existence.
Watching all walks for clues or images of recent
developments, hoping to latch onto important
secluded answers.
Always ending on each day's horizons, a little
more bereft than the times before.
Although hope is enkindled anew each morning,
that their existences will have been proven with
meaningful answers untold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem