To The Nomad Poem by Evgeniy Filimonov
To The Nomad
The brooding, the helpless.
The creeping and veiled.
The skies carry the blaze.
Their effigies extend to the haze up above.
Their dwellings refuse to pierce the soil.
Thus they remain,
among frenzied streams
and struggling roots.
Their stride is one for survival.
Though others, they burgeon.
They keep to the mists.
Where none can record.
Where none can question.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 4:27:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
