Woke on a white blanket today.
Looking at the blue sky above me.
Turning I see;
A strange looking farmhouse at the bottom of a hill,
A fence of split logs,
Mountains were rising up, like giants through a misty morning.
Two glasses of red grapes sitting on the blanket,
No one else around...
Plates made of paper filled with cherry pie,
No one else around...
Suddenly, from behind I hear!
A quiet voice was singing words I could not understand.
I turn to look,
No one else is there...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I turn to look, no one, , the truth.