The drink is poured.
The ice tinkles on the rim of the glass.
The mindless chatter soon fades.
All elbows are soon bent.
A sip and a soothing down the system:
Warm and enriching, the flow is felt.
Another sip. And then another. Some more, and I
Drowsily drowning into the depths of serenity,
Seem to wander up high just as the clouds do -
Being as still as ever.
Yet, breezing past nature
And sucking in its occult pleasures.
How oft we fail to see nature. In all forms,
In all beauty.
Some though have the ability to waltz in it;
To feel more than whose who never saw.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem