In day the breeze sieves through the leaves
In night unseen it slips between
Whistling a murmur in she oak scales,
Rustles each crown in the canopy lofty,
Taming the wind ‘til it treads the ground softly.
Swaying the tree tops slow graceful lulling
Ruffling green clouds, a sleepy song ending
Preened leaves falling, dark night descending
Sigh, rhythm fades,
Whisper, breath strumming
Tapering to the peace of
A hum above nothing.
2002
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
gentle, flowing words that paint a picture of tranquility