Like dancers swaying with the breeze,
such is the life of standing trees.
Its woodlands patchwork countryside,
those places animals do hide.
And, so as I glimpsed across this wintry scene,
Of maple, oak, and evergreen,
A heart of thoughts began to flow,
like the flurries, flakes, of falling snow.
Oh, then beyond those trees I did glimpse too,
the horizon, its obscuring view.
Its blotches of clouds, stretched here to there,
frozen in sky, blowing somewhere.
And, while gazing across those standing trees,
to horizon, towards infinity,
I felt this life, I felt that peace,
some touch, touch from eternity.
I felt an essence deep in me,
saying your home, saying your free.
Your part of One, outside, within,
with snowflake melting on the chin.
A part of All, of everything,
horizon, cloud, those trees standing.
Oh, this, …
Oh, this I felt from those standing trees,
one day in a December freeze.
I felt, felt from those standing trees,
those swaying dancers, in the breeze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem