Starting morning with a charge from nature's habitat,
visually seeing into next horizons of life.
Writing from these inner tapestries, unfolding songs
of poetry.
Reacting silently to their alterations as they
assimilate themselves into volumes of literature
hidden inside my mind.
Awaiting their times of awakening - opening like rose
buds in the early morning sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem