My life has seen so many starts
completing but a few
so many dreams still to unfold
and hopes to rise anew
Who will be picking up the yarn
when spinning slows to purr
when woven threads fall to the floor
and tired eyes are blurred
is there a young and caring hand
to find a faded cloth
long doomed to a forgotten chest
an attic home for moths
So many hopes have come to naught
in wisdom's burnished mold
so many sparkling cups of joy
dashed to a ground so cold
Through hazy cobwebs fringed with dust
I see a ray of light
As yesterday's fond hopes appear
Like sunbeams in fair flight
I move toward my modest cot
and lay the shuttle down
of that old wooden spinning wheel
that still keeps going round
Tonight my dreams will let me know
if that quilt full of seams
will be attached and somehow patched
to some new weaver's dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Weaving dreams', wonderful work, good luck with the weaving! !