I am no sage but, living in humble quarters
Forsaking for souls, making a sacrifice
To leave my footprints
I am walking on constant pebbles
When the white dove lands for a peck
And the air smells of July
The sea is silent barring the wind
Like some chirping performer
Gets the act with admiring shores
No one weeps, or misses a life
A promise, a hope lost, or an act of great loss,
Good things move on here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am walking on constant pebbles When the white dove lands for a peck And the air smells of July..... good things move on and live and live again and again. a sublime thought presented in wonderful imagery and great imagination......... love your words... tony