This is the story of a ship
That sailed to moon but lost its grip
Like in a maze, it turned in circles
No break of down, no stars, no purpose.
The ship went drifting in the dark
A hole appeared, left its mark
On shallow floor, it grew out large
Like fire spread, releasing charge
Then suddenly, a gentle wind
Embraced the sails, blew up the string
Do not give up, it's meant to be
You are the wind, the ship is me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem