Where the writhing vines grow tall
And the willows wail and weep
Up a weathered old rock wall
The reflection calls to deep
The froth collects on clods of green
In an ink black night her craft she hones
And licks her lips as if to preen
And polishes clean the pale white bones
Eternal time in ebb and flow
Lightning strikes in random wrath
As Cumulus climbs to view the show
And devours all in the cross of path
The eye in the sky, she sheds a tear
And it plummets to the rocky crag
For those born without the fear
To conquer waves and freely brag <><
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem! Well done!