poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

  In the green morning
I wanted to be a heart.
A heart.

  And in the ripe evening
I wanted to be a nightingale.
A nightingale.

  (Soul,
turn orange-colored.
Soul,
turn the color of love.)

  In the vivid morning
I wanted to be myself.
A heart.

  And at the evening's end
I wanted to be my voice.
A nightingale.

  Soul,
turn orange-colored.
Soul,
turn the color of love.
 

Translated by Alan S. Trueblood 

Added: 2 Dec 2001 | Last Read: 6 Sep 2026 5:28 AM | Viewed: 9115 times

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