Sitting on the bank of the lake
Laced in the morning dew
Grasses, reeds, cattails, motionless
Mutant swans and geese drifting
Upon silent panes of blue glass
As the hushed silence captures
The beauty and tranquility of morning
Somewhere the inattentive has voice
Somewhere in this, between the
cerulean liquid, and myself
God speaks........................
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem