Do I see the colors around me,
or only dark, only gray-in-gray?
Do I feel the little signs
of growing and blooming around me?
Do I help so that something
can grow - in me, in the other?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
and here too, tony, the seeing, the openings, are gifts. momentary but precious. -glen