A storm is building fast;
for time can never last.
But now epiphany
has come to set me free.
I think of precious dawn,
where poetry lives on,
and how the mystery
became so clear to me.
I still recall the faces,
that memory embraces.
And I will not forget,
my passion and regret.
As lightning fills the sky,
I know I will get by.
And I will never hide;
the storm is but a guide.
It comes to ease my pain,
with rest and gentle rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem