Carpeting each curling climb, clouds wind tossed
Glistening dew, gloved in green hues, wet stoned moss
Wet and wipe weary tears come tumbling down,
Clothing a pathway, tree trunks now tower and stoop
I pause, standing: mind drinking, but spirit kneeling,
Leaves and oh so; such soft shoots,
Moss worlds away in feeling, but
Man, oh so beauty-blind, oblivious in scorn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes..this inspires the beautiful scene and also wistful at the same time! ! good job..dear!