the dance of life
goes on and on within the circle
of our
none awareness
time moves like a silent creeper
in the garden
you do not see until it goes over
the field of another
to someone whom you do not know
it is something that you feel
not having even
met once that one and this one
so unfamiliar yet
we nod
beyond fences
and sometimes beyond repair
the dance of life is one which you cannot
refuse
on tired feet still you must stamp
sometimes
even sans the music
and the rhythm
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem