The Tao Poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
The Tao
The Tao
...and I left. Yet the birds remain, singing:
and the garden stayed, with its green tree,
it’s wishing well, and silent tulips
Many blue and serene morning skies,
the wind chimes will sing on the patio,
as they are singing this very morning.
Flowers will burst anew every year,
yet we will always wander nostalgic
in the same maya of our creation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 7:02:47 AM # 1.0.0.1119
