Morning fog
caressed
my winter tears
as unseen geese
(noisy gaggle)
crossed the opaque sky.
Things well hidden
confuse
my fragile faith,
so when bright, piercing rays
broke through
this lonely vale of tears
I thought it was only the sun
not the golden light,
desire of my fleeting years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem