if you tell me
how to write it
i cannot write
it anymore, so
just leave me
where i am,
in the silent
woods, when the
winds hushed,
when the leaves
of summer fall,
given this kind
of situation,
my hands become
ready for the next
fine touch,
words are caressed
freely in order to
grow....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Often we think how to write. We wonder and we feel too. But this is interesting to motivate mind with care and dignity. A nice poem is shared.10