Turning into rhythms of motion that circle this poet
in an array of colors from rainbows of past sadness
and sorrow.
Hoping that there will be no more grief or loss in
the future, but knowing it's just a fantasy, a dream
that will never become a reality.
Whispering breezes of life past, never going to be
reprieved on this earth, this poet stuck with the
reality of the unknown, every once in a while still
wishing for something more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem