High on the stony mountain,
Swathed in fog,
Sounds a chilling, lonely gong.
I wander through the valleys,
Through the villages and trees,
And past still pools,
Searching for somewhere I lost.
Far beyond those mountains,
Once it lay,
My somewhere, that I forgot
In the bottom of a glass.
I left there, and my mind was full
Of that mountain fog,
And now I cannot remember where ‘twas.
There was sunlight there,
Of this I am certain.
No misty valleys, no clouded hills.
It was flat, and full of light,
And clouds, and dancing people.
But I lost it,
And I fear I shall never return.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sonorous dreamscape announced with chilling clarity and closed with the wraithlike cry of a lonely soul.