at dusk
a stork speckled sky
storks are flying
to the northlands
as their generations
have taught them
they are flying
to the northlands
where hope
and old nests await
light fades
as silk
to evening
smooth sleek gliders
homing to the darkling woods
where secrets sleep
with the storks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem