The feather spun downward
Through the changing skies
Into our hands
As the clocks move
Was it a clue to this writing
Of ours?
We dip into the sea's ink
To write of the seagull's elation
On the wings of imagination
The island...
~The seagull takes flight~
Dotted with all that's known
The child reads the book
It opens between his fingers
In a V sign.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem