dried and pointing skyward...silhouetted against the shingled slope...
each spear....an elongated triangle....
from a distance so like an immobile flock of erstwhile fliers....
tree-bound in a soundless symphony
preserved by dust and dry skies....
...........last spring's lilac blooms.......whole....... transformed....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem