I rose in the swamp
where few ever go
far up a lost valley
where dark ferns grow
I spoke to the rocks
I called to the birds
and I silently sang
without any words
I carved the oxbow
poured over the ledge
till I was a bayou
surrounded by sedge
the end of my psalm
is a bright melody
I return to my mother
a warm turquoise sea
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem