You can leave the mountain
But not the morning
The morning follows you
As gently as a mother’s eye
All your life
The mother morning
Brings its infinite possibilities
At the slightest breaking of the night
Her stirring presence is waking
Just before our plans turn our face away
From her meaning
Nonetheless she is present
Nurturingly present
Every single day of our aging
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem