In the day’s final glow
all colors flow
to the whispering breeze,
dark, rustling
leaves.
Through the hot afternoon
with purpose I moved
and never did think
bright day would sink
to gloom.
In the gentle west wind,
in the soft starry glow,
I hear you sing
and then I know
never will you
leave me
alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem