Mysterious poems, endless …words
Wisteria - windings on my mind.
The millponds ripple silently heard:
Distils, conspires with every rhyme.
Every touch every nerve trembling.
It's all leading to an end:
Let's not pretend the gifts I'm learning
Shall, in these rivers, endlessly wend.
Every footfall beat is a beating heart.
Running-backwards-to the start
Oh, all my passions …when did we depart
Then only find our comforts in the dark.
Isn't the white page not yet smudged?
The best of all conceived, never written
Life and love they're always fudged.
Is, at the end of our yarn the vision?
Mysterious poems, endless …words
Wisteria - windings on my mind.
The millponds ripple silently heard:
Distils conspires with my every nerve
In times of darkness: to fly like a bird.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You had me with the beauty of the first stanza Mysterious poems endless… words Wisteria - windings on my mind. The millponds ripple silently heard: Distils conspires with every rhyme. I also have spent much time thinking these thoughts, and I loved the last stanza twist, with the extra line 'In times of darkness: to fly like a bird.' now I do not wait for darkness I fly anyway, in darkness or in light :) 10+ Isn't the white page not yet smudged? The best of all conceived, never written yes this is truth and mystery