My heart and my mind fly in the distant space like a wounded bird.

That when it goes higher the sun and the moon approach to it.

My heart, my wounded mind, I hear your voice as the horses' neigh during the race.

I live in the fields of memories.

As a train in the great plains of Canada and America.

My heart and my mind are like fishes in the depths of the ocean, on a journey to find a princess or companion

 

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Ottawa International Poets and Writers for human Rights (OIPWHR)