Beyond the pale green of blades now spent,
Within the memory of what was
I ask, 'What will be? '
My eyes see just far enough to blur any hope.
Thinking back when days didn't matter
and time ran with me,
I smile, knowing the essence of everything was new and good.
Now thoughts circle around the next day's passing,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem