To rest upon a flowing path
Time falters knowing names
A mind set on weary pain
To stop on such of sights
Shadows wrap in warmth of thought
Least of now is yet to come
A memory is pressed to be
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ah, this one I like. Short and sweet, with a taste of serenity. Beautiful writing, as always.