The mountain was at top in my garden
In its blue faraway,
I was looking for a rose
In its hillside
The clouds were drifting to my soul
With a blank empty space,
Of a vapor desire
When I found an open door
Every day is young and faraway
In its beginning dream,
As it comes to clear yesterday
Of its going conclusion
Come here and stay for nothing
To bring your knowledge on,
The time is again like leaves
Of a new summer coming
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nothing brings solace to the reader Peter...enjoyed reading