Into the translucent morning
a lark soars singular
and larkspurs crowd the garden walk
waving pastel spikes to the sky
as children might
hold up their hands
stained with finger-paints.
So lark and larkspur
Rise into the light,
lift me with their jubilance
and write their song upon my heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I agree with Fred wholeheartedly. It is a lovely poem, making you think of cool breezes, and children playing, flowers swaying. Simple and sweet have never been so wonderful as this.