Yesterday the fog lifted gently
And the morning was as pure as usual.
That which stunned me was the dew -
There was something fresh and new -
That sensation of an approaching miracle,
That sensation of forgetting the past.
And it hung in the air coming from the dew.
Like a child believing in the virtue of imagining
I tried as much to inhale and took it in my pocket.
So I carried it till the advent of the dusk.
With childlike eagerness, I fumbled for it -
It was still there
When the stars glittered timidly
In the quiet evening sky.
I kept it close to my chest lest it vanished.
All I dreamed of that night
Were fields covered with dew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem