Like and Irish spring soft and pure her words of truth so easily
came. On all the cold dark winters days she held me, and I
knew that she would not by me forever stay. In the verse that
was her life she lived and loved freely. Dancing with a smile
of knowing in a magical kind of way, I marveled to have been
one of the few how knew her in this way. Like a vision long
gone I now after some many years wonder if she was mealy a
dream or part of a reality that for a moment in time was pure
and complete.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem