There is a poem in the sky
that's waiting to be found
it's hiding couched in drifting clouds
without a shape or sound
It calls me as I walk along
the sunny street of day
how can I pull it down to earth
and shape what it would say?
Somehow it seems to shadow me
and wake me in the night
until I stir my sleepy hand
and then begin to write
When dawn arrives I note the words
and find a lovely gift
a poem sent for me to share
from clouds that gently drift.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When dawn arrives I note the words and find a lovely gift a poem sent for me to share from clouds that gently drift. Beautiful.