Life's stories unfold and untold
Reflections on peices of broken glass
Patterns of a distorted past
Covered by a gleam of coloured dust
Vanishing with the light dying fast
Forgotten, the pieces stayed there
Until a hand reached out to care
Uncovered the roots of despair
Seeing a vision that was very rare
Discovering its real presence
The pieces showed it's true essence
Unmasked, beauty came to make sense
The hands uncovered greatness, hence
Enlightened, the innocent hands became
That once were existing with no gain
Strongly blind to its new formed frame
Encased in a gnarled and aged grain proscenium
The the wood, the glass and hands became the same
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem