Oh morning glory kiss upon the brow,
As western winds graze past gold meadowland.
Can you hear laughter's echo even now?
Just as winds cease, there falls an open hand.
Seeing the fairness of a sky too blue.
Wait wondering, grasping hold evermore.
Reaching out, pealing back that palest hue,
Entering into once elusive shore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem