I am becoming tireless.
As if everything in my heart
is coming out,
like cherry blossoms
covering a tree.
The aroma of wheat
in a field before harvest.
Something in me
needs to dance,
to sing,
to flirt with the faces
of the world.
Does one know how to talk
to an orange?
How to kiss the rising sun,
embrace
the circularity of the earth?
Let them consume and bless you!
I joined a wedding,
and danced into the night.
I felt the youth of my soul.
I shouted,
I am young!
Rivers coursed through me.
My legs were light as feathers.
The girls,
beautiful as apples.
And the moral of it,
we are free
when we are joyful.
Glorious when we dance.
Life is good!
So praise it.
I am seventy,
in the year of my youth.
I obey the wisdom of my mother.
“Be happy,” she said.
So I am happy!