Shadows branching and crossing lawns of green,
mown down and looking neat and trim.
Glad are shadows, with freedom to crawl over
desert underbrush and wild growth, where they
do not have to be exactly what they are mirroring.
Raising and lowering, jumping from bush to cactus
and hiding under mesquite trees while daylight is
upon them.
Joyous treasures to a heart when shadows are seen
throwing themselves about.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem