Whirring stirring yarns of old
woolen cloth more dear than gold
homespun stories spinning wheels
earthen bowls of ancient mold
Wooden floorboards handmade kegs
milking stools on three strong legs
sauerkraut in weathered bowls
raven nests in oak tree holes
New potatoes burlap sacks
bright blue patches filled with flax
never will those times return
precious dust in stone hewn urns.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem