Between surreal, twilight realms,
And the dew stained, flesh pink dawn;
Between winter's bitter warnings,
And the first carefree flash of spring;
Between the needle's stinging pain,
And oblivion's lush dream worlds;
Between liquidity of doubt,
And frozen metal certainties;
Between innocent Eden,
And brutal crucifixion;
Between the pale rose of absence,
And the vibrant, sacred garden;
Between transitory shadows,
And the light of the Eternal;
Lies the vital force of enchanted Creation.
Its teeming essence emblazons our consciousness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem