Strolling along dimly lit pathways, looking closely
at nature while it opens before me.
Seeing trees, living and growing, flowers, their buds
blossoming creatively without any help from anyone, an
innate capacity to do what they are meant to in life.
So it is with innate talent, not being seen at all when
born, yet it's within a mind, creating enormous amounts
of poetry from within the nothingness of a vast space
of intellect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem