There is no whistle in the briar
Nor in the garden, lilting there
There are no murmurs in the trees
There is no passion, calling me
Yet, I feel a presence in the air
Something precious, something rare
Perhaps it’s in the songs I breathe
Like a little whisper on my sleeve
Is it that, you’re drawing near?
Is it your essence that I feel?
Have you come my way at last?
To sweep away the shards of glass
I’ve searched for you, both far and wide
Out in the hills, the countryside
I’ve waited here, so very long
While humming soft, a secret song
There is so much I need to say
To lift the rising shades of gray
So very much I need to know
To pull me from the blinding snow
You gather near, yet stay apart
You never let me touch your heart
A fickle flame that chars my soul
You only give me, half of whole
Why do you linger, why do you stay
Why do you treat my love this way
So many times, I’ve told you so
So many times, I’ve tried to go
There is one thing, I must confess
I sought to sway your tenderness
But, it seems my heart is second hand
It took so long to understand
There is no whistle in the briar
Nor in the garden, lilting there
There are no murmurs in the trees
There is no passion, calling me…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
love, passion, life in the world, thanks.