The woods on either side of me
Are beautified by dark,
They seem to stretch eternally
Around the path I walk.
Now just to give some stark contrast
Between my road and woods,
The woods lie next to where I stand
-And shall remain for good.
The winding road on which I walk
Is tedious and plain,
The underfoot is plated rock,
Sharpened by disdain.
I often wish I had the nerve
To wonder through the woods
But I fear that I won’t return
To finish what I could.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem