I stumbled on half-hidden stones
With brambles overgrown
A graveyard from an age long flown
Neglected and alone
I wondered who was buried ‘neath
The tangled weedy wreath
What body in its final sheath
Lay lifeless underneath
Was there a soul with gifts innate
Who hoped to pen a line
Caught by a sudden twist of fate
Now coffined and supine
I left there running like a sprite
And found my book of prayers
Where little notes I hoped to write
Were buried in its layers
The day will come when my own grave
May be a hidden cave
No human eye will ever see
Yet poems there will be
I stumbled on half-hidden stones
With brambles overgrown
A graveyard from an age long flown
Neglected and alone.
Being a macabre sort of fellow I was drawn to the title. I was not disappointed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Where little notes I hoped to write', so glad you were inspired to write more, sometimes it takes a sudden jolt to get going!