Can’t I run with the wind,
Or whistle with the trees that sway
And converse with the birds?
Is it possible to be like a blissful sun,
Peacefully asleep with gentle dreams,
Flashing the world its brilliant body?
No, I can only be me,
Sad and sleepless,
Scatterbrained and slow.
There is no room in nature,
Just space enough for the mean world,
Just space enough for the firm reality.
No…it will never be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem