Daring to lift my dry eyes of green
towards the snow capped rockies,
I don't see God, but a light
is immensely shining.
Of all the things I know
my heart feels only this:
I'm old, alive, alone,
my body rages and raves
consuming itself.
I briefly rest in the foothills
tall grasses by a river bank,
under bare aspen trees, then move along
beneath buffalo clouds to live out my days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem