Reading a poem sometimes is reliving,
a past that one sees.
The present is absent,
and past present..
We travel backward, the
past doesn't came back.
But in the peaple's memory,
The past is present, and
the present absent.
Remembering my adolescence,
my past, my peaple, at this
moment is present,
and the present, absent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem