Belonging
Where hill climbing ends
Around the fourth bend,
And you breathe easier
As you walk on the flat;
Straight and narrow now
With hawthorn hedges.
Cattle had been let out,
Leaving their hoof tracks
In the muck they spread
As they hurried onwards,
Bound for summer fields;
The tracks will disappear
With every shower of rain
And the road as white as ever
Will rise before us then-
But one way or another
We belong here just like them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
But one way or another We belong here just like them.... wonderful ending to this lovely poem, , ,