I am thinking about the poems I write.
They follow a style simple and light.
It’s not very famous. One is rarely a fan
Of the delicate haiku that comes from Japan.
I fear to show you my actual works.
I want to protect them from critical words.
But I’m eager to share them. I write about nature.
I record my impressions when I go out to venture.
I look at the sky and the white fluffy clouds.
I listen to birds chirrup sweet loving sounds.
I take a deep breath and let poppy perfume infuse.
I feel the soft grass and make it my muse
And then I start writing how long winters bring chill
First felt in late autumn on the leaves-covered hill
That in heated mid-summer was a light-hearted fling
Which shamelessly rustled the flowered mosaics of spring.
And before I would know it, my eyes open to see
A whole ocean of beauty just waiting for me
To fully experience and fully absorb
A whole circle of life and fit in an orb
Of three elegant lines.
A huge universe in tiny disguise.
The human emotions now turn into leaves
That flow with the tender serendipitous breeze.
I dream to translate the whole range of those feels
Endless like buds on the lavender fields.
And I can keep talking, keep describing all day
How much I admire every morning sun ray
But if you’d ask for my poems outright to display
My cheeks will start blooming like roses in May…