It is this
final blooming of
the bud
under the morning light
this opening of the windows
after dawn when we both
wake up for the prayers
it is this arrival of the winds
that sways the leaves of the trees
it is this crackling of the hens
these oinks of the piglets
these crowing of the roosters
these quacking of the ducks
it is this smell of fried eggs
this aroma of steamed rice
this smoke from the pork grill
this coffee this maple cakes
my life, oh my life begins again
for another promise of my day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem