Fernweh
A poem for those who wander.
The majesty that nomads tend to seek
Kyoto has, I think — a kind of calm,
without which traveler hearts appear oblique:
Who are you now? And where do you belong?
Perambulating souls, by fernweh vexed,
can hardly stay the same because they roam.
Like red wine growing ever more complex,
eternal wanderers cannot be known.
When travel is your only way of life,
as landscapes morph and you evolve your heart,
the road becomes your man; the sky, your wife.
The journey — you — won’t stop nor ever start.
Too still too long, by sunrise you will rouse.
Don’t think, just go: the constant traveler’s vows.
Shannon Frandsen, a writer, photographer and the editor-in-chief of Wanderlust Magazine in Thailand, grew up in Hyannis, Massachusetts. She lives in Bangkok with her husband and two daughters. Follow Wanderlust on Medium here.
