We all lie here with our wounds
radiating out
poisoning the wintry land around us
the grail is there
but it is unknown unseen
a simple melody unheard amid the
cacophony
sometimes it takes
a gentle hand on the chest
or a smiling face on a screen
or a lingering hug just so
and we can drink grace from the grail
sing the song of spring
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem