The Maple trees
Are still dancing
From season to season
Even in stillness
Even in rhythms
Through the rhythmic
sails of tender winds
Even in the northern lights
Even in everlasting skies
Kissed by waterlillies
The maple trees
Are still dancing
In their seasonal attire
In their seasonal dresses
Translucent, green embers
Stark, golden hues
With the blossoms of spring
The starkness of winter
The gold of autumn
The clovers of summer
Honey in its leaves
From her lean mystique
Even tears can be honey
Reynaldo Casison
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem