I walked a path that climbed
through autumn's leaf strewn bed
along a hill.
The wind moaned through the trees
along the path that led
beside the mill.
I saw a woman dance
as some innocent child:
windblown delight.
Turned back pages of time
in ritual free and wild.
It was twilight.
The wild wind raised her dress;
her gypsy rhythm beat
made not one miss.
An angel then appeared
and with a show of heat
bestowed a kiss.
A chill went down my spine;
my heart turned into stone,
or it did seem.
I'll never be the same.
I'll always walk alone,
me and my dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem