the fact of mortality
makes me wonder
I see the trees fall
I see death's descent
every season passes
dust blows to oblivion
gardens lost forever
fade from memory
dark clouds obscure
a marvelous illusion
I am amazed
by desire's deceit
summer lilies wilt
seeds touch the earth
the next valley waits
a silent breeze stirs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You have a peculiar way of catching the moments, faces, happenings, events, nature's paces.I like it.But what else is poesy? Just this very one.To see things as never seen before, to extent the limits of understanding and feeling.
Sometimes a poem grows into exactly what I want it to be but sometimes it doesn't.