Crystal clear waters babble over jagged rocks
Beside a mountain's moss-laden stones untouched
For generations rushing near low-hanging boughs,
A peaceful riddle for those who pause to hear.
From primordial woods above the falls comes
A stillness filled with rays of sunlight silently
Sifting through, embraced a dying oak leaf
And gently settled it on the gathering pond below,
While I watched.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem