Those many written are but a few,
more of men, grand but unheard;
whose fine art to their tombs' taken,
whose fine minds to Earth forgotten.
Who knows the songs of those unsung,
whose lips neither you or I can read?
Who sees the paths of those untravelled?
Who knows of a beauty that's not on teevee?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i totally totally agree with you. and have always thought so! ! youve put it so well too. i love this poem! ! ! cheers. al