My destiny is curved in the stone.
I try to change it; knowing the
impossibility,
I open the door of ambiguity,
And try to lose myself in
totality
But loosing myself I find the
real me,
The me, who want to continue to
exist,
Even though the ailing heart
threatens,
To stop and end this numerous torture.
My ailing heart will fail me
soon,
And no one will remember me.
But I want to live;
In the smiles of the babies,
In the scent of spring blossom,
In the colours of rainbows,
In the shower of monsoon,
In the falling leaves of autumn,
In the snow cold mountains of
winter,
In the gushing streams that flows
through my village.
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