Wild rose’
the lifting breeze
of this field stills
and this stillness crosses
with the evening’ light
my energy within glows golden
the core of my soul
an old gnarled man
crafted by hands long past on
sings; and the wings of humility
separate spring from summer
and then; the mirror shatters
and love comes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem