I want to walk through the woods tonight,
feel the chilling air as I look up at the sky
without a single fear of what lies beyond sight,
and sift through the leaves once o'er head but now underneath.
I'd hear them swish and heartily crumble
with my gaze cast long up and my shoulders hung humble.
With air through my nostrils such that Death even stumbles
I could feel the bark of each tree hidden in darkened sheath.
Maybe I could lay down on loamy earth,
admire barren branches naked in their girth,
even smile at the moon for all that it's worth.
Hmm, no. Tonight I think I'll sit by the hearth and leave the woods to their heath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem