the soothing songs within my head,
as I lie upon my bed.
the gentle music playing 'round,
while soothing silence does abound.
gentle darkness that does protect
hopes and dreams that I project.
lilting melodies of gold
that I hear as I grow old.
a soft sweet breeze on summer's day;
hammock soft in which I sway.
the gentle sunlight on my face;
while I haunt a private place.
the softly dripping crying rain
washing out all of my pain;
an autumn leaf that's floating down,
finding rest upon the ground.
a cup of tea to slake my thirst,
its flavor in my mouth does burst.
the incense wafting 'round my head;
into its smoke, my cares have fled.
the soft, sweet crying of a dove
singing to the world its love.
the peepers crying in the marsh,
their song strident, but not harsh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem