The Lake was aflame in the bright morning sun,
The Trees whispered, telling to run.
I took a step, then another,
Quickened pace in both fear and haste.
The waves lapped at the dock,
I reached the end, a weight holding me.
I heard a voice, faint but bold,
'Wait! 'But it's too late
I fell,
Too fast.
Too far.
Too Hard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'I took a step, then another, Quickened pace in both fear and haste. The waves lapped at the dock, ' Nice expression.