Like little glass animals,
delicately dreamed
with deep understanding
of the pure that they are
without and within,
alive when the sunlight
paints secret almost-colours
on their graceful curves,
moments are to be soft-remembered
and long-honoured
and touch-revered
in backward smiles
and perhaps-tears
and ever-joy.
(12 August 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem