Flying with blowing wind,
Without feathers or wings,
Leaving tall trees to swing,
In space of traveling time,
Every season and spring,
Spending the years of prime,
Lofty dreams soaring high,
Intending to touch the sky,
Like colorful kite left to fly,
With thin string and knot tied,
Confined to limits of loving family,
In the name of tradition and sincerity;
Very much a deep thought here.... Knots all the same are knots... Remarkable poems///// 10/// Best wishes, Tsira
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
dreams within the confines of family and traditions- reverence for family life.10