How long are you going to trumpets
Your sad melody for the Trumpet flower in the Trumpet woods?
Brother! You get trampled one day by the trumpet weeds
And we never hear of you again.
What a sad poem! One can have ears and still refuse to hear. Very original thinking, as always. Warm regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very brassy was of saying 'stop banging your head against the wall.' Ingenious as ever Nimal. I would one day love to gaze deep into your creative word pot. love, Allie xxxx