In the gloom of the woods, hidden under the blanket of night he runs
His spirit is free as he sprints through the forest
To break out into a moonlit clearing
Breathing hard he grins at the night sky
Sprawling on the lush grass he closes his eyes
Listening to the gentle rustle of the trees in the calm breeze
The sweet intoxicating smell of Nymphaeas fills the air
His soul is at peace once more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem