By Thomas Page
This is a series of poems of words that do not directly translate into English. I have tried to capture the essence of the word in a poem.
Light escaping through trees
In a dreamlike forest of pinks and greens
Of eternal dusks and dawns queueing up shadow puppets
Like gobos casting dramas and romances
Written on the back of hands
The leaves the paper of folklore beyond the need for tongues
Uttering sounds needing to be comprehended
Leaves, a lantern hued with chlorophyll,
Breathing lighted life on the roots.