I served a tea to one who's coldest,
to warm those homeless bluish lips,
to stir the blood that's gotten stale
from wandering the snow uncovered.
Most of all, if the drink did him well
and pacified those trembling limbs,
he spoke it was my letting him in
that melted an old sadness within.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
having trouble meshing my thoughts together right now ~ you do it with such ease, grace - i'm looking to you for guidance. keep on! Sus