I went out one dark, blustery night
The wind was tossing the trees
Like childrens wooden playthings
As I reached the top of the hill
I heard a noise, I've never heard before
A long mournful cry, that seemed to contain words
Like someone calling for someone lost
Yet also eerie, unworldly, beautiful
That was answered by my innermost self
It cried again and then again
But then I heard it no more
I looked around but there was no-one there
I called out but no-one answered
It caused the hairs on my neck to stand on end
Like the ruff on the neck of a dog
When it hears something it does not recognise
It took me some minutes to realise
What it was that I had heard
It was my first experience
Of what country folk have often told
And though frightened at the time
Yet now within moments of solitude
I find myself longing to hear once more
The voice upon the wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem