</>I wonder what it's like to be a ghost,
roaming secretly as everything fades,
watching as everything falls into place.
Would I be invisible to everything living,
nothing but a myth, a tale of fright?
Or would I be pale and beautiful,
like the cold moon's light?
I wonder what it's like to be a ghost,
freely drifting alone and unknown.
Would I make friends with others who had passed,
or would I forever walk with only my shadow by my side?
Anxious I'd wait for everyone else,
to join this dimension filled with apparitions and mist,
for the boundaries between the living and the dead,
can only be crossed if one truly wish.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem