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nothing....
i am nothing,
nothing but the breeze
walking through the trees.
nothing but the caw of the crow,
the echo of the mountains' silence.
nothing but the empty bowl
held by the hungry child.
nothing but the dark face,
the white hands,
spoken in different languages.
nothing but the blood,
of the family killed by the bombs.
nothing but the lonely terror
of the suicide just before dawn.
nothing but the footprints
the lonely traveller follows
on the way back home.....
nothing but the leaf
turned from green to red to brown.
nothing but the memories
of love calling back to you.
nothing but a prayer,
an offered hand, an unknown friend,
a tear, a smile....
the dance of the living,
a small fire on the darkest night!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nothing but the empty bowl held by the hungry child..... This's superb! ! ! ! ! ! excellent poem! ! !