Pairs of two, groups of three, all alone
Friends and familiar faces disappear
Over the hills into valleys miles away
Practicing for the last dance we'll share
On the side of this Kentucky hill
Rehearsing the turn of life
Riding waves crashing on the high tide
Dancing across the earth just like
A fistful of leaves cast into the wind
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem