In a furious cloud
Set about the corners of light, there
Declined aspirations are, alive
You are set to vow.
In the Spring of such a time
Sprang the will to live
Beyond the audacities,
Beyond the plain
Orders of every day.
Summer saw the salt
In liquid form, to
Escape your body in the heat.
Autumn asked the
Reason of such a living,
Torments sought to home.
Winter froze, a few thoughts
Took speed. Breath, life
Is not, of the living, a given.
In the mirage life, a mist agrees
Come hither or away, soon
It’ll be above your head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very vivid and descriptive poem, Maor. A delight to read