At the Heart of Nature
At old age,
Here, in Abbottsford,
Of B. C, Canada,
Looking back, dream of…
Unsure I,
Cannot recall,
If I was four or five,
Villager, small child…
On back of a donkey,
By myself, all alone,
I sat and he grazed…
Out of world, was asleep
Woke me up, suddenly,
Soft jumping over creek.
Never call it a beast,
He knew I was child,
So, crossed smoothly
To avoid harming me…
From then, and rightly
I defend animals,
All of them, any kind,
And reject insulting
If at home or if as wild,
If huge, or small.
Like today and here
Came flood, washed away,
Livelihood of village.
Now I read and observe,
Every word on people,
Each and all the pictures,
Takes me to the old days
Feel tired, am afraid,
As if is my childhood,
In plains, by mountains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem