A Stone Wall
I was taking pictures of some old stone walls when
When my feeble mortality struck me,
The stone dug up from rust red road to divide for all
Time whose property it was
And they will be there long after I have gone.
Not that I wish to be a stone like the ones in the wall
Rain and the sun it must be boring
Still I reflect upon my demise and cannot make up
My mind cremation or giving my body back to the earth
And my bones will be turned into gravel in someone's
Drive in, this confounded old age I have sagging ears
Like an elephant but I'm running out of years
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem