December sunlight
is all I see,
and the residue of summer gone -
December sunlight
and the long shadows
aslant from the west.
And here I sit in splendor
inside my bay window,
warm and cozy,
words flourishing at my elbow
as if they were hardy cosmos
or roses climbing:
the poetry of John Keats,
Innocence and Experience,
religious poems of America,
The Tree of Life.
I hear singing;
with my eyes closed
I see them float by:
lumina gloria
exuding from god or goddess
for the moment, of this world,
nimbus
blown
by
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful December Sunlight is climbing with shadow in this shared imagery. Fantastic sharing done definitely.10