the sun is high
shinning through the
branches of the willow trees
the birds are chirping none so
able to hear the whispers in the breeze
unable to hear the shimmer of the
dancing leaves.of years so far gone
none able to hear the storys of the lost stars
in the sky so high.deaf to the moan of
the clouds so worn and torn
none can hear but the willow trees
the her the sighs and every one of the cries
of the all to lost seas
the hear the moans of lives long
past.the hear them from the first morning light
to the last breath of night
the sun shines, the birds chirp
the waves sweep but the willows the willows
weep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem