English poems about my dreams

My dream, my cloud, your world.

This is a long and endless road. I don't know where it is taking me, but I have been running with it. I run not because I want to, but because I have to. It's a long run, and I'm exhausted, but I still have to run.

This is new york. The city with high-rise buildings is proud and noisy, huge and arrogant. I came here as an illegal immigrant a few days ago. There is no legal way out, and I'm sorry about that. I really want to come here; I want to make my dream come true. I took my dream to another dream, new york. This is my dream.

After arriving here, I have nowhere to go. I looked around blankly and decided that I didn't belong here. But when I looked up at the sky, the idea soon disappeared. Cloud, yes. Those clouds, they are the same as when I left my country. They are the same everywhere. This is why I am not a foreigner to them, they are my cloud.

So there is no problem now, no matter where there are clouds, that place is mine. I started wandering in the street. Somewhere in the center of new york, wandering around the abandoned streets, I can see the dark side of this dazzling metropolis. It was all dark; Drug addicts and unofficial insignificant old people are everywhere, and they wait for no one except the bereaved angel.

I never dreamed that this would happen, so I left this place. I went downtown, which was my first mistake. I was so busy flying in Manhattan that I fantasized about forgetting Interpol. They have been following me since I came here. After all, I am a prohibited immigrant.

An endless road. I don't know where it is going, but I still run along it. I run, not because I want to run, but because I have to run. It's a long way and I'm exhausted, but I still have to run.

This is new york. A city full of buildings, arrogant, noisy and arrogant. Arrived a few days ago, as an illegal immigrant. I have no legal way to come here, and I am very sorry about that. I am eager to come here, and I hope my dream can come true here. I brought my dream to another dream, new york, my dream.

I have nowhere to go. Looking around in great confusion, I come to the conclusion that I am so out of harmony with everything around me. But when I looked up at the sky, the idea quickly left me. Cloud, yes. Clouds, they are exactly the same as when I left them in my own country. No matter where they are, they are the same. That's why I'm no stranger to them. They are my clouds.

So all the problems are solved. Where the cloud is, it is my territory. I started wandering in the street. I am walking on a deserted street, somewhere in the middle of the big apple, where I see the other side of the dazzling metropolis. It's dark here, full of drug addicts who can't extricate themselves, and old people who are unofficially declared worthless. They have nothing to wait for except death.

I never dreamed that my dream would be like this, so I left this place. I walked downtown, which was my first mistake. I was walking at full speed in Manhattan, and my heart was full of confusion, which led me to forget those international policemen. They have been following me since they came here. After all, I am an unacceptable immigrant.

For a moment, I thought I should let them know why I came here, so that they would let me live here. I want to tell them that I'm only here to make money, through legal channels. I want to earn a lot of money, and then I will go back to my roots. I will go back to where money is important. Men are only important when they have money. If I get the money, I will be important, too.

But of course they won't notice. Why do they want me to take their wealth? This is their country.

I was walking casually on a busy street when I suddenly felt someone staring at me. I looked at him and he began to look elsewhere. Interpol. I slipped into the crowd and disappeared. This is my second mistake. I made them doubt me. But I'm scared; I don't know what to do. For the next two days, I continued to hide. Then I made the last mistake. I met one of my compatriots, or rather he met me. He told me that he could find me a job. My money was running out, so I quickly agreed and then slowly refused. He wants me to sell drugs. I can't do it. I wanted to make money in a legal way. I told him no, and he disappeared. When I turned around, I saw the same Interpol standing on the street corner looking at me. Before I could take the first step, he disappeared behind the wall, and then I didn't take the first step. I just stood there. Not so good. They must think I joined them. But they don't know. They must think I'm one of them. They're wrong. I have to tell them that I am not what they think.

For a moment, I thought maybe I should let them know why I came here, and maybe they would want me to stay here. I want to tell them that I'm just here to make money, legally. I want to earn a lot of money, and then I will go back to my hometown, where the money is really useful. There, all the rich people are grandfathers. If I have money, I am also an uncle.

Of course, they will not pay attention to this problem. Why should they let me take their wealth? This is their country after all.

Walking in the busy street empty-handed, I felt someone staring at me. I looked at him and he looked away. International police. I slipped into the crowd and slipped away. This is my second mistake. This will make them suspect me. But I'm afraid. I don't know what to do. For the next two days, I continued to hide. Then I made the most fatal mistake. I met a compatriot, or rather, he met me. He said he could find me a job. Because my money was running out, I quickly promised him and said "no". He wants me to sell drugs. I can't do it. I told him that I wanted to make money legally and turned him down. He left. When I turned around, I saw the international police who had been following me staring at me. He stood at the corner of the street. He disappeared behind the wall before I could take a step, so I didn't move. I was standing right there. This is not good. They must think I'm with that fellow villager. They don't know the truth. They must think I'm a drug dealer, too, but they're wrong. I have to tell them that I'm not what they think.