Under the shadows of
The old hill
The clouds moved low
As the low hill
From the few houses lined
At the hill's low edge
You go to the back windows
Looming on the yard
At the back of the house.
The tempest lightning croaks
Thunder from above the hill
Cold electric
And the winds pass
As through the through
Between the hill and
The few houses.
Verses still, not full of
Spring's wine nor of
The Bacchus mood.
Blood of the hill
Savior of the loam
That unwinds with the
Fall of liquid currents
Down the hill
In the nocturnal stealth
Where ghosts and shrouds
Still roam at the edges
Early edges of the Dawn.
Under the shadows
Under the shadows of the
Old hill
The verses of the Poet Seer
Moved sad and slow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem