My fancied escape on a time lone,
When the wind has refrained from its moan
To become at night, the sleepy drone.
Mind's ranging eye comes on like a phone
Transmission, or a silver beamed cone.
Live imagery on brain's screen is thrown
Like Safari full of wildness known,
Where limbs and wings all in splendour shown;
Figures playing in brightness I tone
Up in thought, which to delight is prone;
In me how passion cloud-high has grown,
The air-immense thrill it invites blown
To the pinnacle, the mount does own.
The exotics to treasure are sown
As pearls of peace in me to be flown;
Hunting I 'am in fantasy's zone
Of scenes wild, which beam beauty I hone
As words penned like a polished-prized stone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.