In dreams, I hear the sound of wandering winds.
And I see haunting shadows dance between the trees.
Does this dark forest reflect thoughts deep within?
Or is it merely the sultry summer heat
Playing with my frail mind in the fevered night.
I focus on the centre of the clearing,
And detect a glowing light of ghostly white.
I sense the suffering of innocent things.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem