Noise, lights, cashed,
is was in it's heavenly,
forever.Yet still, it blink.
Waits on some day,
maybe again, oceans.
The ground is silt, taste
fresh new, is soft, to rich.
One seed, drifts, tossed
in void, washing clouds.
Under skies bed, watch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
One seed, drifts, tossed in void, washing clouds. Under skies bed, watch. .................................... It is beautiful... Tsira