…..and the beauty is so much
nothing to think nothing to talk
No time to hang on No where to rush
Nothing but a heart filled of gratitude to offer
To none but to all…
To pass by this this throbbing life everywhere
And no time to wonder?
That cunning ability is lost
No plans to work on
No need to shape life any more
Who are we creatures of imagination?
Life, if may find us worthy would shape us…
the shaper of one is the shaper of all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem