THE busy days are here
crowding themselves
packed like sardines
but there is still joy somehow
in this fast paced
life,
reading between the lines
amidst this crowd,
the poems keep on whistling
they have a beautiful world
within and
i keep on listening
still abreast
as alive as
a fledgling about
to fly
away
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem