Break Of Dawn Poem by Leo Yankevich
Break Of Dawn
I rise at the break of dawn,
still dreaming, half awake,
wondering whether I’m gone;
but, the sun on the lake,
the ancient stones, the pine-trees,
and the mad hungry birds
(in a language without words
borne to me by the breeze)
softly utter, ‘No,
on and on you must go;
this life do what you can;
eternity has no end.’
Beautifully … poetic smothering insinuatingly lasts «Pastorale» by a life …
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 7:52:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Advising dawn...well said