Climbing mountains in a Casino bus,
heading to Payson to try our luck.
Watching scenery as it touches my sight,
seeing pure white clouds, hanging over mountains,
looking like snow - capping them.
Rain pouring steadily, quenching the desert's
thirst from above.
Desert floors still holding their greenery,
beautiful to see and hold in private memories of
poetical versions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem