It couldn't whistle
as nature's wind
whirling shadowed dust
for breathing and disappearing
It couldn't be
as proverbial evil wind
straying fickle-minded
faith believers
It couldn't hiss
the leaves of the pines;
pushing oceans waves
into storms
Confusing, now, but it's not
to chase the wind
in mountain dusk
here in biographical track
transforming wind into dreams
dark and lights........
Narrating my self-alternating pasts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like this one, it's well thought and well written! !