pluck from one string a song falling out of the air
pluck from the soul a last shred of despair
let days flow by and the nights ascend
listen at once and at the end
the stories are brighter than you supposed
and even in sorrow there is repose.
mary angela douglas 30 december 2022
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Soul-filling poem, Mary. Thanks for sharing