How birds flock along a crowded brush,
A strength running with the wind in the darkness of a forest,
The vibrato of a robin hidden behind a bushel of leaves,
How God has blinked for such a masterpiece,
Soft footsteps sink within a moist, fresh soil,
Rays of light push forward to warm the running water,
All so I may sit and stare,
Stare at the loveliness of a forest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem