My heart is living in The Hague —
So every time a feeling comes,
It takes a moment to connect,
A distant call beneath blue skies.
I have to dial across the miles
Just to refer what heart implies.
If I were Dutch,
I’d write it straight —
Unvarnished truth upon one page,
No quiet turns, no empty gate.
But I come from the Asian stage,
Where hearts roll deep with winds in fate,
Our land quite often shapes the words,
The light by which we measure love.
But in the end,
What's left to birds?
What message do we send above?
Shall our story be in vague —
If, after all the calls and maps,
My heart resides still in The Hague?
To the Hague
© Copyright: Айжан Усеналиева, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126092206311
Свидетельство о публикации №126092206311
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