i gather manna every morning
at the time of dew.
just one portion ere the sun
ascends his azure stair.
a sustenance for wilderness,
equal to the circumstances
any given day affords
within this realm of earthly cares.
i gather truth and nature's beauty;
peace to fill the soul.
a dainty meal to quell the hunger
constant to this world.
these thoughts, like manna in my hand
that only angels comprehend
are heaven's benefits bestowed
on spirits longing for their home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem