Sounds of waves, sounds of winds,
all sound the same as dropping pins,
without the cling, but with your ears,
you hear a sound, just a sound my dear,
like footsteps and the music you like,
they all sound the same to one so wise,
like a gunshot or a mother's song,
both sound the same,
but one so wrong,
open your mind to what i speak,
even though my theory is antique.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem