Mysterious gray
The shadow of a lone tree
Silently waiting
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Spring is cold sunlight
Becoming warm once again
And touching the trees
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spiked bird beak peppers
holes in a tree; little bugs
burrow deeper in
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on a small flower
dancing gently in the wind
a black bumblebee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dancing to the drum beat of desire with a compelling creativity.