The Poor Ones Poem by Jinge Norvall
The Poor Ones
Twas Jack Frost
Who held the land
In his grip of ice and snow
And the poor ones shuddered
In their shivering shacks
Not an ember to warm cold souls..
And the beast that gnawed at their empty guts
Raged on through the merciless night
Ravenous, consuming - as frost on flowers -
The poor ones had faced their last.
Last meal, so meagre.. Last fire in the hearth..
Clinging together, love, at the last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 6:18:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
love, clinging together. I like it. thanks.