soft rains
falling
onto the quiet
unobstrusive
mornings
as seas lap
gently
against
the winter-weary
shores
of weather-beaten
hearts
and souls;
buds
sprouting
and shooting
their green-rich
herds
towards
an inebriated
sun
upwards
and outwards
in the delicate
art
of crowning
the bare bones
of skeletal
trees;
wet grasses
slowly
changing hue
on desolate pastures
of brown
rot and decay.
wood and soil,
flesh and blood
animated with an
optimism
going insane
with newborn
joy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well expressed.Good work.You're agood poet.