Taps at the glass, gentle stones,
Dirt powdered hands and a grin—
Cannot wait, sunrise, a lifetime without
That smile, green eyes, laughter
Loud, especially in the quiet of the night,
Under the stars close to the spirit—
Accidentally loved, face of a boy, heart
Outgrown his whisper, hardly a sigh
Of maturity to the eye what only I
Can measure in the tremble of his
Once proud, steady hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem