On a creaking chair
and swinging lift,
the quiet light on white
in the graying dusk.
Push off and drop on mountain
Woosh! Happy feet and legs flexing
with rhythm in waves of powder,
lumping over bumps,
swooping to the valley below
in the cool air
breathing long in...out...in
and again:
On the creaking chair
and swinging lift,
the quiet light on white
in the graying dusk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem