I drift along at my own pace, the walk becomes a stroll
The wind that wafts across my face, is something to behold
A warm and pleasant feeling, announcing summertime
Where everything around me makes me feel that all is fine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Many times, succinct verse produces literary substance of a thousand words...This lone quatrain is proof solid of my claim...Nicely done... ~FjR~