in the morning
is a new world handed
on a golden plate
to those
who are redeemed
by dreams
over ricefields
the sun shines like baby
fingers
holding on to mother's
breasts
with silent eyes content
on the milk
birds fly in the skies
hovering on trees
feeding on
fledglings
this hometown
is what we all miss
away now from
those overcrowded
cities
green grass always
gives us the feelings of
home
scents of pines
more satisfying than
any perfume
we are in contact with
our inner core
almost wanting nothing
anymore
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem