At it's edges
The green boughs wreathe,
At it's heart
Space for the soul to breathe,
An open sky above
For the gulls to wheel
Silence and freedom
To soften and heal;
All around an emptiness
In which to catch the breeze
To grant a moment
For the mind to ease,
And in the evening,
Under the cloak of dark
Peace settles her wings
Over Temple Park.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem