I cannot focus awareness on the winding road
The distant hill is covered in a blue haze
There is all-around oblivion felt in my unbeing
Only the other day I was a blade of grass
Today I cannot wave in the mountain breeze
Uprooted from my mother I do not know my being
Just like that hill covered in a haze of forgetfulness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a wonderful metaphor about how we have to learn to survive at times without the godly direction from our archangel