Soft wings brush the edges of dawn,
a whisper of color against the quiet air.
They move without hurry,
carrying the weight of nothing,
only the gentle pull of sunlight.
When butterflies kiss,
the world does not notice.
No thunder marks their touch,
nor ripples disturb the sky.
Yet somewhere, unseen,
a petal stirs,
a breeze changes its mind,
and silence hums a little softer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem