Some thing beyond this prosaic reason,
You stand to beautify my romantic green,
And like Dove, in my poetry,
You here have brought the first Spring.
I remember with tearful-gratitude,
Your tender light and cozy breezy winks,
And the enigmatic bliss of your soul,
In those days of my spiritual suffering.
Never did I try to measure,
The spontaneity of inspiration that I owe to you,
From your divine realm you have come,
And that was what I knew.
Dearest Carol Kate Chard-Hargett,
I remember, how by you I was humbled and re-made,
And how my psychic found a bike, with your awake.
And now when this earthly lease is sure to over,
The Soul wishes to leave this,
I recognize your story as a bliss -divine,
In my poor -being, your worth would ever shine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem