A spontaneous glow of great mirth
encompass her features
a smile alit upon her lips
The usual matter-of-fact features
smooth out to reveal something
which plainly says
'What fools these mortals be! '
Not a dancing glee-
No mischief there
nor merriment, but nevertheless mirth,
maybe in her eyes
something that sees life
Who sees it whole, and still stands laughing
no wryness, no bitterness
yet
And so we pray
Oh God-let it be
no-not another tomorrow
before she passes free
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
let it be, pray and believe..