I have not settled, on...
A song I like.
And dear, that is why - I write!
I glean to touch an angel's feather
But all I do is roll like a boulder
Strewn-down the mountainside
Bruised the color of purple heather
By these empty, ‘words', hell for leather.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem