A Scotsman wades through the heavy blizzard
his kilt blowing round his knees
his eyes are dark
searching for a way through
His long gold hair
swirls around him like the snow
his tartan cloak
flaps in the wind
like the cape of a cartoon super hero
The ground below is hidden
by the flurry of snow
the wind seems to scream
as though in distress
He finds what he's looking for
the grim shadow of the fortress
he starts to run
sprinting like an Olympic champion
The tall fortress
towers over the village
its thick stone walls
show forbidding
The Scotsman is allowed in
shivering from the cold
the wind still howls outside
like a pack of wolves
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem