Many people wander through their lives, wanting more
from it, yet never really striving for anything, just
wasting their lives away.
Trying to grasp dreams that hold no essential meanings
for them, but pressing excruciatingly to change all of
that to no avail.
Whispering echoes of reality, hoping that something
magical may come of it, translucently, never factoring
into rhythmic measures of living a good life instead of
standing still.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem