Campfire and drum-beat morn,
Farewell, goodbye.
Those who own Earth,
Are owned by dust.
Singsongs are gently gone...
What begun can die.
Those who had worth
Are worth as less as rust.
And boasts alone the river-stone,
That it is I
That know no birth
Nor death, and ever last.
From whence we were born,
And soar off high,
We land again on earth,
To rest at last.
Campfire and drum-beat morn,
Farewell, goodbye.
Those who had worth,
Are worth as less as rust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No man can ever have ownership of the earth, it has ownership over them, and it will swallow you back in time. Great work, wonderfully worded with a great many lines.