over mountains, valleys & dales
over the farmer ploughing his field
over houses on short narrow streets
over strangers that we will never meet
over lovers kissing in a park
over the homeless who sleep unloved in the dark
our paths, pavements and roads
over the graveyard were the dead are stored
over children who laugh, run and play
over the traffic that drives you insane everyday
over the pure who have not yet sinned;
the rainclouds came rushing in.
Feb'2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Splendid piece, so well versed.