bhgh bhgh Poems

Beneath the firmament,
Sword on the throat, at dawning
We, the oriental, always sing:
'On the green of the earth
...

From your eyes, I sense the feast,
And I sense warmth of hope.
With your memory, I'll become empyrean,
And I sense the vastitude of the sun.
...

From your eyes, I sense the feast.
And I sense warmth of hope.
With your memory, I'll become empyrean.
And I sense the vastitude of the sun.
...