The wayside farms and homesteads
existed way before
the rumble of the bombing
was heard as ne'er before
The peasants and their kinfolk
tilled soil and knitted clothes
they sang and danced on Sundays
and shared their joys and woes
They cooked with fresh picked produce
from gardens grown with pride
their soups a fragrant bounty
from woods and countryside
One day a wife was stirring
a stew upon the hearth
and dropped the wooden ladle
when rumbles filled the earth
I happened on that homestead
one autumn afternoon
door open, house abandoned
and saw that wooden spoon
Though it has been long ages
since on that spot I stumbled
it's still so clear in memory
a life so swiftly crumbled
The wayside farms and homesteads
existed way before
the rumble of the bombing
was heard as ne'er before.
Oh Liilia, this is such a great poem, 'shared their joys and woes', 'fragrant bounty from woods and countryside', 'dropped the wooden ladle', so sad, the everyday peasant life 'so swiftly crumbled'! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Soups with a fragrant bounty speaks here about wonderful expressive imagery. This is definitely finely drafted poem shared on....10