Up in Idaho
night's a starched taut canopy
all owl-hoot song and woodcock coo
presaging blear eyed dawn
and sombre praries dank with dew
Shoshone tears
moose trails saw through pine
wood shacks shake to leaf-blow
beaver tails all ungainly
hearth stones
cold to the touch
are bitter still
I've never been to Idaho
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem