Listen to the glisten of unwavering night
whose wayward whispers are an open hymn of praise,
sweeter than a smile's double dose of cheer and light
and breathing softer than a sleeping shepherd lays.
Starry glints are gleaming across pillows of snow
while ancient pines are dreaming, drifting overhead.
Like smiles ever beaming, the flecks forever flow
drifting onward as happy tears of winter shed.
They glisten as I listen on the cusp of spring,
and silence sings across this snowy scene unseen.
It's the white dove of winter slowly lifting wing
to unveil the earth's broad breast of emerald green.
Listen to the glisten of winter reverie
whose twilight folds into the hands of morning light,
whose white wings will wander, far flown across the sea
to chase sweet dreams on fingertips forever bright.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem