These trees and their leaves
Glow, in early May with
The subtle gifts
Of green Creation. Unlike
Us poor, vain creatures,
They consistently maintain
A profound stillness.
Whilst we waste our precious time
Chasing the wind. We go
Around in circles daily
Without any real
Purpose or significant
Sense of direction.
It seems that we could learn so
Much from rich Nature,
If we only took the time
To investigate
Its infinite quietude
And patience. Alas,
These traces of true beauty
Seem to pass us by.
Our thoughts are always elsewhere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem