And I look at the Hare
Through the cold, dark Mirror.
He gestures to me,
And I want to be free
From this. A new Spring
Is close to sprouting
As the Hare
Takes me down to his lare
For a nap. Then suddenly,
Almost too indredulously,
Up from the earth,
From that confining hearth
And into sunlight;
A new creature is about to take flight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Steven. I can imagine the hare through your writing. great projection. well done Regards Dave T 10/10