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Poem

I dive into thoughts, wishing my verses would soar ever higher,
Like a bird with boundless wings, lost in distant and divine horizons,
But they only float, like water birds with netted feet,
Tilting their wings in vain, without reaching the dreamed destinations,
Helplessly watching skylarks and eagles fly towards the edges of the sky.
How I wish my poems would sail across limitless expanses,
Like ships parting ways, heading towards distant lands,
Carrying my fantasies to the ends of the earth!
But they remain like paper boats, launched by playful children,
Drifting here and there on muddy ponds, without a set course.
How I wish my verses would meander over hills and valleys,
Like a mountain stream flowing to merge with the sea, crossing miles,
But they slide like serpents, struggling to move on polished floors.
How I wish my poems would grow from chrysalises into butterflies,
Flying among flowers and feeding on the nectar of life,
But they remain crawling worms, destined to hide beneath leaves.
How I wish, like an inspired artist, to paint on my canvas with skillful hands,
The brilliance and glory of the setting sun, the freshness and beauty of spring flowers,
The awe-inspiring majesty of mountains, the silence of the lonely lagoon,
The dark grandeur of untouched thickets, the sunny clearings of forests,
And scenes and vistas so varied and countless,
That I might lay before you in magical hues, the wonders of an unseen paradise!
But alas! What I leave on my canvas is just a mundane scene!
My poems, like kites tangled among the branches of trees,
Are devoid of the flight towards infinity!

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