The Topanga Canyon sky
is made of gold.
Eucalyptus leaves rustle
in the Santa Ana wind.
'Keep your fears distant
from all hearts, ' the sun counsels.
'Especially your own.'
I shed multiple skins,
and kiss the hand of History.
Her laughter sounds like
gently falling love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautifully done, David.