We are who the timberwolves
are watching through the trees.
We are who the fire brings
beneath a stricken breeze.
We are the souls of Neverfound
and often shall we cry,
but 'til we hear that lonely sound
we know we'll never die.
Perfect we can never be.
So close, but yet so far.
We are the dreams of other dreams
from amongst another star.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem