it is morning and the leaves drip
from last night's rain
the fog still hangs low in the glen
trees shiver and shimmer
a wakened bird hails the new day
with liquid harmony
peace hides within this isolation
sound is a soft feather
misty bowers do not speak of fear
no danger lurks
still I am but a stark intruder here
the forest watches me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem