Morning star,
Shine oh so softly down
On gentle sleepy villages,
And weary rustling pines.
Rain fall tenderly,
Meekly, mildly:
For saints of men
Have walked this ground.
Oh trees so thick and strong,
Stretching your limbs up
To touch pure rays of sun-
Let not this beauty blind you;
For great sorrow and trial
Once abided in this realm:
Angels have breathed this
Same crystal air,
And spread their sheathed wings
Upon this stained ground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a wonderful observer of life and death and the history of all existence..... You are just so awesome and so vastly neccessary.... Please never stop writing.....we need so much more of your keen awareness and wondering....