An entertained mind seeking to get it easy...
And with a breeze,
Can not be expected to think of life...
As a blessing to accept.
And...
To be taken seriously.
Only when a candle begins to flicker,
Does the wax with the wick burning in it...
Become regarded as important.
But...
In the beginning,
When the freshness of the glow...
Seems to bestow imaginations that go on forever,
Who remains focused upon the wax and its melting?
Not too many.
Just the light and all that sparkles,
With an identifying meaning...
Is wished to linger.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem