I see your reflection in my beggar's eye,
Who owned your world neath truer skies;
But died in driftwood, for your smiles-
And held you close, for a little while.
We go, we stay; no one pays heed,
Though signed in blood names on the deed;
No matter who, I'd know your style-
Who held you close, for a little while.
The ocean roves, just like a man
Whose heart is sweet, beneath warm sands,
And I hope it never was a trial-
Just holding you, for a little while.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem and it just is one of those that makes me feel like sitting on the porch in my rocking chair at the old farm house early in the morning. My old collie dog and a cup of coffee and a smile. A wonderful painting to me.