Grains of sand, 
sift, through
my fingers, 
Falling, for a moment, 
tiny particles, adrift, 
toward the ground, 
Instantly, their
destiny, becomes a thing
of chance, 
Caught in a breeze, 
some spread their wings, 
achieving, new heights, 
The rest, slowly, 
falling, to be with
the others.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    