Sun hiding gently, shyly behind pine trees, peeking
occasionally through the leaves.
Whispering winds blowing over graying areas inside
a mind.
Water running constantly, artificially in a cement
pond.
Mushrooming down after having formed a lily -clear
shape.
Far away from the trappings of a hectic world while
sitting right in the center of it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem