Strolling quietly down aisles, thinking of nothing
much.
Looking into forests of interior recollection, being
relieved and satisfied with all that I'm feeling as
I walk carefully.
Softly enjoying restful images as leaves gently brush
against memories, bringing them to the surface.
Watching them continue on my journey, never tiring of
being with me throughout times of gathering thoughts.
In evenings of my beginnings, I constantly have
peaceful feelings descending upon me in quiet mysterious
visions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem