After nearly twenty six thousand years
the wheel in the sky is nearly turned.
Incarnations, forced to live again.
When there are those so green then
they shall go to where we came before.
The firm warm earth a phantom zone
a place to wait and watch.
Where some the gifted few escape to
go each night in sleep.
Drifting off,
into the sea a sea of night, that's day.
The color green is best when seen for
what it really is.
A healthy soul, a wealthy soul, a soul
that free,
and does not have to start in life again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem