you feel so normal
(mind you) if you commit a mistake
despite
the best that you have shown
with what you
are
you feel uneasy with
excellence
you feel sorry for the shortness
of others
you are disturbed because at the top
the winds are colder
and you are
alone
you want to be happy
being one of them
the people of the mall
the stranger at the park
the common player on the
leveled field
when you become the sun
and planets revolve around you
what use is that light
and fire that creates all the storms
of hell within you?
they will never know that every hour
you burst
that all that you take
melt
and that
there is not a thing that
you can ever
keep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem