I hear the rain patting on the ground like a drum.
I hear the wind whistling in the trees like a flute.
It sounds beautiful even though everyone says it’s awful.
It’s like people, they say there terrible
but you have to know them to judge them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I read, once again, for the first time...I refocus, reposition my lens... and the only thought that comes to mind? What a talent; a way with words; another way that your beauty and spirit shine I love you, my Morgana. The distance between us seems to disappear, I feel close to you (which I miss) and connected when I read your work I beam with pride and feel blessed to call you, 'daughter'