as the torch being ablaze
of heat from the sun
sunburnt from the wind I last,
stretching sails of purpose
and is not making
any difference for me,
whether my boat will be drawing up
still to other edge.
on the black earth, yellow sand,
on the snow,
I will leave my tracks,
and my heart there,
where related I have souls,
whom I will move with the word,
with dream...
and perhaps then I will just become
the oblivion?
I will rest after the walk
who still doesn't have the end.
I will turn the face to the sun
and gladly on the mouth I will stop,
I will see that the route behind me
and before me is empty...
then I will fly away with sigh,
I will become only recalling...
Maria Barbara Korynt
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-one-time-2/
