When dawn snuffs out sleep's candlelight
one's memory retains as bright
far fog framed phantom image which
imprints its background stitch by stitch
upon the mind – dream drawn despite
the evidence that day and night
defy comparison. The switch
from focus when the rest is pitch
to depth of vision often might
seem trite when gift of second sight
ungranted is or atrophies.
Soul inner cecity defies,
“necessity” denies. Heart seeks
beyond the ken of highest peaks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem