there is such freshness
under the tent fabric
stuck upon my lips and nostrils
that i can almost feel through a grass blade vein
all heavy dewdrops from ten thousand and one mornings
there is such beauty
that i forgot how airplanes can crush
for those who dare to dream
for others too
after they died all their deaths
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hello poet Cristina, you seem to enjoy the common graces of life that many of us take for granted, I enjoyed, Loyd