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To Whom; It May The Wind Blows You

I saw the drunken man on the 16th street
used the dark red raincoat
He was drunk without a head
(but) riding his heart
Walk into Glen-arm
Blinded his words
There was no wind blows
But the words always stuck in an old Oak tree
(from) A distant land
The pieces of memories
Powerless into sound pieces are now
in the country that everyone should speak
Even to speak on his own
In the wind, even in passing by people
who do not know
I see the drunken man,
sitting in a pushed wheelchair
grumbling about love
It's not belong to the wind but
to whom I will never know
I am just a traveler, traveler
who recorded all not by malice
I promised the cool breeze of the mountain

(16th Street Denver,21 Oct 2010)

poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
Added by Poetry Lover
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