I run to catch her sweat, it
is the early mist, morning.
Where she walks, is lightly
seed is planted, she grows.
Between full moons, heavy
tears fall, clouds do look up.
Only she knows, tounge of life,
refresh yesterdays, new smile.
Apples fall from her hands, at
the feet her tree that is, luckily.
You her breath, teaches wind
the path, to flow inside, all sails.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very very nice, it is the price, fathoms deep in a chest, at rest time to fore, brings a cry rings, truth travels as billow the sails chers an ten