Aching.
Longing.
Museful pondering.
Hopes peak and blossom
like a tender and delicate white rose
perched precariously
on the edge of a mountain peak.
Hopes plummet and swirl
downward
downward
downward
into a rushing
rocky
tumult
of
unsettled
and chaotic
waters.
Time passes
and the water stills
with a calm and peaceful
serenity.
Hopes spring anew
with vibrancy
and a tender compassion
and fresh promise
and wonder
if they
can begin again
anew?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem