A spiritual entrainment levees,
spawning entropic cascades in its wake,
a logarithmic landscape ossifies,
effulgent among its tutelary scarps.
As winter settles in,
an enamel carafe fills,
with analgesic dreams,
eclipsed thoughts and
an insolent stubbornness that awakens.
Oh how I yearn for Yule,
For those stream colors that defy reality.
Oh how I thirst indifference,
dexterous youth that abnegates responsibility.
Today I exist strewn amid a supple hill,
a prim chorister bellows my name,
a melodic velum unfurls down Main Street,
to herald a new generation of homesteaders.
Now that our fallow lives diffuse,
one grapples onto the waft dandelions of spring.
Harbingers of silent prayer,
floral brood of jovial eternity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem