The leaves pick up
And swirl and twirl beneath me,
Rising, to the swirling-twirling in my head.
Leaves leave of branches
And as if dancing to a tune,
Touch ground to be no more.
The branches shake now and then
Whilst the tree stays sturdy strout
Un-moving, unknowing to nature's changing course
The nest lay (or what was left of it) mercilessly ravaged,
And the innocent birds fluttered far and away
Sensing the deformed damage and seeking shelter somewhere…soon.
Since then, I gazed intently upon nature:
What once dazzled and sparkled
Seemed mutilated, motionless
As if nature's clock stopped ticking.
Yet- is there still a spirit in the woods.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nature's cloak, Eternal it is. thanks.