he steps out the door of the house
it is late and he walks wherever his feet carry him
he wants to be irresponsible about what to do with himself
he bathes himself with the light of the moon
sits under the tree on the grass
it is always this way
solitude and loafing of thoughts
he looks at the moon and once again stares at its craters
its round smiling face glistening in the middle of this darkness
all veins of rivers and cliffs and creeks
he loses himself in these thoughts
so faraway as distant as the stars are tiny
these excruciating details of his pain
he goes wherever these pains take him
he does not mind anymore
but soon all these will be over
he will be oblivious about what happens for the moment
he takes his hands and open them before him under the light of the moon
he sees the lines of his palm
he wakes up from the moonlight stupor
he traces now
where
for God's sake, where is the trail that now must lead him to joy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you have puzzle my mind....but any way....thank you.... i found another path to reach my destination....you open my thought of a certain reality....excellent Boss......your words lives in my precious time ….God bless you....a Big Star and a 10 +++++