Titmice and sparrows flock for food at dusk
Farewells hang in the air like lanterns
Hoarfrost weaves over black bark
Cracks quilt the quiet lake
A flock of crows pace the underbrush
Watching souls rise in rime fog
The wind sweeps the trees clean
Leaves sink heavy with experience
Saluting all that is fallen and free
Knowing that all has begun
Long before fever rises out of dew, long
Before wisdom summons back the hawk
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem