An early hour of mist....
Filmy, translucent robes.
The forests' Ambassadors
Are about...Royalty.
No birdsong, movements
Along treelines.
Prescenses in slippered
Quiet, disturb nothing.
This early hour, the Fates
Sip tea on the lawn...
Muses dismount from
Unicorns...
The Dragon still sleeps...
With its fire of life
The Sun
Will appear.
And let's hope he stays asleep there is too much insomnia already effecting this place.
I guess a sleeping dragon is more easily chased.... or is that just an Englishism? t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love it Elysabeth! The message, clear! *10*!