The ground moves beneath my feet
As I pad down another street
None have known where I have gone
They observe my figure lone
Traveling like a gypsy
Perhaps a little tipsy
Observing my surroundings without a thought
And I know not naught
But the taste of the fresh night
The clouds dancing with the moon light
Will always make a cryptic sight
A flow of movement to be free
Just content to be
Without tasks obtrusive
Reality is elusive
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem