Gone is the growth which bloomed in spring
Vanquished by the hand of time
The house which cared for them is near
Nourished where the word begins.
The Cosmic Gardner scatters far
New seasons crops and future aims
As time worn growth resists the call
To follow precessions’ way.
Time runs slow before the hour
As young growth struggles to be free
The great wheels speed is set upon its turn
Child be still your term is almost here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem