Were they lingering from the past
Or an uncanny premonition
Leaving impressions quite aghast
Beyond natural definition
As the lonesome coyote howls
Eerie blends all curt illusions
Many generations veil and cowls
Under swirls of pure delusions
They will follow all to the graveyard
Spinning in and out of focus
'Life is not a dream, ' penned the bard
It is merely hocus-pocus.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem