Like as you have the gift -
Thoughts as to see the moon,
they stand stainless as clouds -
in the fog still trapped soon.
The wind has carried it
on birds' wings soft -
no question we will fit,
creating you - the host.
The night wind heavily sighed
of a long journey from the east
and no longer remembers, he says
it comes from rusting and feast.
The birds are chirping softly
as if they could understand
from knowledge that disappeared
there, - you can see - every lost hand.
(C) All rights reserved
Floy Dy Ra,15 03 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem