Splendor takes flight,
soaring high on night currents,
setting slumber free,
drifting away on the wings
of a snow owl, taking me
where the winds blows.
Moonbeams cradle memories,
notes among the stars,
watching the trees roll by,
watching the colors match
my mood, in sleepy restitution
in pastures all their own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem