On dark hills shadowed by sorrows
is sparkling the snow of the day dreams
and birds with their soft wings closed tightly
are running towards it in long rows
The yellowish moon rays are sliding
through thin veils of mist slowly blurring
and spurred by the warm scented air breeze
the wide open soul wings start gliding
The phantasm of froth haze throws blind trust
inside the hope blossoming heartbeats
to crumble the doubt, while the gold snow
dissolves in ethereal stardust
The higher the flight grows the glowing
that folds up the peaks and the feathers
till yellow turns white and the dawnbreak
throws light on the naked souls' flowing
Then whistling the morning gail’s calling:
'You’re flying on dreams of a second'
And up goes the veil of illusion
The flock starts its unending falling
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A compelling read.Its one of the few poems, that correctly defines the frailty of our being.An Emily Dickinson touch but not her obscurity.You've got a rare & real talent.Keep it up.