If it is
Not I who
Sees the light
Of morning
Break of day
Come what may
In shadowed
Land nowhere
To be lost
In terrain
Of despair
Then it is
Ghost of I
Hope restored
Richard, this flows just like the jazz that Kerouac loved so much. Well done! A perfect 10.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
As a person that crazy and love to imagine like me, I would like to say i imagined your words here and I found it has a beauty, dark but bright... And sure I love it!
Sometimes dark is beautiful. Thank you, Soul for loving the poem.