I can splash warmer tones
on a watery sky,
nudge the drifting cloud,
touch the Spring shoots,
fresh, green.
The east wind
exhales,
its sharp edge
bleeds the air clean,
clear, cool.
I taste the breeze,
smell the waves crash.
I can walk,
talk,
hear the trees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poem, Howard. Read my poem Love and L u s t. Thanks.