As I confront this nagging, inner pain,
The strange, new morning sun pours its keen light
Into my darkened room. The sudden blaze
Of birdsong seem to flow through me like wine.
My consciousness is filled with potent dreams.
I feel like dry earth blessed by summer rain.
This light, a minor miracle it seems,
Could signal an end to tenebrous days.
O I've wandered too long in wanton night!
I wish my frozen heart would melt and sing
Again. Perhaps, this fleeting bliss is a sign
That marks a change in the malign scheme of things.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'I feel like dry earth blessed by summer rain' - the metaphor is beautiful!