A Poem Is Lots
Of Random Words Together
Made To Sound Pretty
These poems don't amount to much, just some words thrown together at random. And still to me there's something good in making them, it's as if I have in them for a little while a house. I think of playhouses made of branches we built when we were children: to crawl into them, sit listening to the rain, in a wild place alone, feel the drops of rain on your nose and in your hair— or snowhouses at Christmas, crawl in and close it after with a sack, light a candle, be there through the long chill evenings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is too good, simple and sweet and true of course.... keep it up. Please read my poem called A NEW MEANING....