I will not be the one to slay dragons.
It will not be me who will walk on a moonless night.
I will never venture into uncharted waters.
I value the beauty of life above all things, mine especially.
I abandoned adventures knowing that I would not return from them. Because I knew I couldn’t water the flowers in my backyard.
Some call it cowardice. I call it freedom.
Dragon gold attracts me. The curiosity to know what is hidden in a dark night, too.
And the sea…
Oh, the sea and its whispering waves!
But I resist. Cause I know I wasn’t born strong enough to slay a dragon. Cause I know I don’t have the eyes of a bat to walk around at night. Because I know I can’t swim.
I never needed.
My life is here, among these gray hills. Where the view of the setting sun is redder.
Where the flowers are not stepped on by adventurers.
Maybe that’s why I don’t like them. They step on the flowers, as if they didn’t see them. As if they didn’t appreciate it. As if they couldn’t resist an adventure.
As if they had no freedom.
It’s intriguing, isn’t it?
They long to be free,
free yourself from tyranny of the kings,
from monotony of their homes,
from violence of the world,
from certainty of the gods.
And they get so easily lost in their ambitions.
Read original poem here.