On remembering.
I was walking through
an orchard
overcrowded with plum,
apple and pear-trees.
With flowers blessing my ankle, too.
When suddenly I arrived.
I was descending
from a memory
into another thought.
Liable to gliding I was.
From the inward of my soul
into the orchard of my life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem