In my head
the voices,
all human,
though I hear the waterfall,
it's trills and trickles,
the songs of Robin and Wren.
and would give voice to earthy delights,
Spring's infinity of tiny steps,
neither soon over
nor just begun,
for even in winter
and millions of years
the unseen molecules
in tiny moves
create,
This bud,
this moment
opens.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem