Looking through the leaves,
I sat like stone
waiting for a breeze approached
the sun.
Humid moist and wet the air it was
pungent mushrooms life
is every where.
Naked and afraid most have forgot
as reeds
are parted by the past some have.
Around the tree
the water finds the base
a bubble bursts.
Through the surface
breaks an out stretched hand
It reaches out.
Humid moist and wet it causes death.
The sun is high the light is bright
I pause for breath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Always admired your abstractivity, and this pen-gem above be no exception...Wonder whatever happened to the History Quiz...Guess they picked-up on the fact that after 2 days or less that we had all the correct answers even before the questions popped up! ! ! Long Time...Be Well... ~FjR~