It used to be a fun thing to write, till the moment when I realized that I have lost my true voices. So I kept quiet for quite a while, just like a bear going to its hibiration. I guess what i start to find is that the voice cannot be lost, it is just wandering somehere, waiting to be called again, then making its echos to you, to your memroies done in the past and memories to be made in the future. Of course there is a present tense, it is NOW. So seeking a voice, after all, is not such a bad attempt, regardless of the languages and how many mistakes in grammar or spelling. So here it goes:
Clouds, far or near, all fade into stars-
Flowers, blooming or withering, have its time-
My thoughts, dark or bright, stay non-static,
as the clouds come running and hugging the flowers,
in another form called rain.
And the rain-
is alreayd in my thoughts.
let’s call it <forms>
My adorable translating instinct will go as:
I might translate it into Greek in the future, but Greek is not easy to learn. So I will wait.
I think it is a lot of fun to explore other people’s languages. Language is a magical thing happening to humans.
Challenge for whoever is reading this: Please write a short poem about :
- a bird
- a tree
- a road
- a person you love
Simply choose one and start your wonderful journey. Or just comment on a poem you like. :>