Rivers wind unnoticed
through the brown hills
and budding trees,
where dark, little birds
pierce the blue sky.
I drift in vague symmetry
lying somewhere on the grass,
among the wild onion sprouts,
and watch the
cherry blossoms fall
like tardy flakes of winter snow.
I want to hug the earth
and kiss the sky;
but one is too big,
the other too high.
The billowing clouds
drift stately by,
as imperious as spirit barks
of long-dead pharaohs
and their queens;
and I dream of Cleopatra
and beautiful Nefertiti
so long ago on the fertile Nile.
I should quit dreaming,
I suppose,
rise up and mow the lawn,
but it will just grow back.
And no one will say,
a thousand years from now,
'Here lies that great conqueror of the grass.'
No, I think the idle man is wise
who takes his time upon the grass
to revel in the blessings of the spring,
the things that cannot last.
Love this poem kendall, so much so that it inspired me to send you one back. Marie x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
P, S You will find it under 'For Kendall' Tried to send you an email but it didnt reach you.