The rooftops of Italia’s Alps stand neatly in a row
And down below a river flows by a road that no-one knows,
Puffs of cloud look just like smoke as though the sky’s on fire,
They nestle upon these alpine peaks, growing ever higher.
A deep crevasse between cold, sharp peaks, where the sun will never kiss,
Blackness dwells and looks like Hell in this bottomless abyss.
A purple haze is nature’s veil just hanging in the sky
And jutting through’s a jagged ridge, dusted down with ice.
The road that led to nowhere, where no-one ever goes
Just disappeared into the black to where the river flows.
Nothing’s left, no life, no sound just the rustling of the breeze
As the winds caress this rugged land, whistling in the trees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem