It flings us around the world,
By plans or without.
The old, the grown, the children…
Was in the village — and suddenly vanished.

Someone says: but you got lucky.
Others pity — it’s hard there.
Life, like a whirlwind, snatched us up —
Neither there, nor here.

There is no heroism in the leaving,
Nor in the arriving ALSO.
Freedom becomes like a prison,
But even in prison you do not cry.