on disappointments running wild,
i, tame this cold heart,
like a tiger on a cage,
i wish nothing larger than the
tiny chamber of my heart
limiting my dreams
to what my small hand can hold,
i, too, expect nothing,
greater than i can think of,
how the unwise still knows how
to smile and laugh as
pure as the innocence of the
new born child,
i, too, expect nothing from
what my chest can hold,
i, too, exhale, what i finally
do not need.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem