Spirit, wraps this little girl I know.
Her ambient joy for life chills all ancient wounds,
luster the darkest temple within a soul.
Her eyes are not as sharp, but only
her vision streams beyond the definable stars nature had lay.
Innocence, sings through this little girl I know.
One’s timeworn youth, reincarnates as flowers’ eyes,
flaming paths for sailors in the blackish nights.
Her eyes are not as slick, but only
her love frees all pain, and carpenters a sanctuary of hope.
This little girl I know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem