Ducks feeding in and around the lake, quacking and flapping
their wings, all the while laughing at us.
Gentle breezes whispering through my hair and soaring up
to palm tree fronds.
Reaching upward and out of sight, grasping on to any piece
of sunlight, hanging in mid-air, wanting to laugh in death's
face and take his deadly dare.
Reflecting twilight from the ground up, staring into pools
of subsiding light, afraid of the impending doom of night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem