the smell of sweet vanilla grass
beneath my body as i bask
in late spring mid day healing sun
while laying naked on the ground;
is incense sweet, beyond compare
to other essence, tho less rare,
appreciated yet the more
since found so near outside my door.
like symphonies that fill the skies
of birds, are pleasures highly prized.
the air alive with polished notes
from very tiny feathered throats;
and seem a broad benevolence
to oft unmindful audience.
the more, since concert they put on
can be attended from my lawn.
the clouds and trees that dance and play
the wind upon, a grand ballet;
and thoughts debris, that join the course
ascending that auspicious force,
reveal how i've been doted on,
how rich all ken of worth beyond.
for opulance indeed are these
ubiquitous proximities.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
dear moon, if you read carefully, the second and the fourth sentences, the following stanza is weak; the smell of sweet vanilla grass beneath my body as i bask in late spring mid day healing sun while laying naked on the ground;