when you are on top
you see a very tiny world below you
people are dusts
lands are patches of colors
roads mere lines
you realize how foolish you are
to believe that
it is the best place you
can ever have
you learn
to forgive the hazards of distances
you accept there is more to
land or colors
or pebbles
what strikes you most is the
dusty feeling
of humanity
the wind brings you
a layer of brownish softness in your skin
something lands in your
arm
but then you
dust it off
there is a hope that
you can finally understand
what is this
all about
time always makes
hushes in your hair
you comb
doubts with your
fingers
but your ears are stubborn
listening to
the noise in the moistened
lyrics of
their songs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem