(first two lines are from Rumi)
Your poems and your teaching stories
are nothing but daydreams
daydreams, the scripts followed by angels
weaving their way through the world
when an angel taps you on the shoulder
she is hearing your dream
she is choosing you
to play on her team
take her hand and take your pen
and floata through fields of flowers
tiny white flowers from wedding bouquets
this is the way to play with an angel
to write your way to a star.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem