Silence beckoning thought to outdo itself with
imagination's storehouse.
Fulfilling dreams of evening's beauty, listening
to prayers of endearing foresight as reality
shows itself in unwrapped gifts and presents.
Tinctures of rainbow colors scatter across
skyways of subconsciousness and coalesce in
picturesque mirrors of foregone images.
Dried, forgotten, set adrift in piles of leaves,
raked into bags to be thrown away with yesterday's
nightmares.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem