A creeping twig's anterior end
will always look for sunlight,
after a strong and wicked wind
after each a desolate night;
The mists caress her weary soul,
her spirit and the clouds they kiss;
she springs to life, it makes up for,
something that is quite amiss!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Twig's anterior end always look for sunlight. Life needs spring to feel. Beauty revives in mind. Healing is necessary. Brilliant poem this is...10