The rush fades into small steps,
the wind hums a softer tune,
shadows stretch a little longer,
as time forgets to chase itself.
Breaths grow deeper,
thoughts unfold like open hands,
the weight of hurry drifts away,
leaving only the gentle now.
No race, no clocks, no need,
just the world, turning slower,
and a heart finally at rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem