cross-legged
by the fire
peering into the mist
the sound of struggle
on the water:
wings beat fiercely
straining skyward
two snaps of a twig
a low growl
the sound of nothingness
fills my ears
a wind
light and cool
pulls gently at the fire
my face
old and drawn
in the restless flames
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem