Wandering through the desert, watching the sun go in and
out behind storm clouds.
Wind picking up, blowing dust throughout and getting in
my eyes, turning to avoid it, still walking forward and
into the deafening wind as it begins to kick up more.
Now feeling some drops of rain, knowing that soon I will
be drenched while walking into the future.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem