I visit that place often
where the road takes a blind turn
walk along all the lost men
in them wildfires burn.
I visit that place often
where the road is a fossil
of past years' left behind pain
that rancours inside still.
I visit that place often
where still stands the ruin
of all the grown men
who once there had been.
I visit that place often
where lie the ashes' urn
sigh the souls of dead men
killed by lovers' spurn.
I visit that place often
for it's where I made a start
to gather first grain of corn
heart's first stardust.
Intetesting combination of sadness, joy, and pathos. Well written.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what an extraordinary poem... It conveys a deep meaning by the way.. excellent... and it has a fine rhythm. like a scherzo.. A great work.. has a relevancy to the title...