Whenever he climbs up the singing mountain
As same as while his descending,
He hear some gentle foot steps behind him
And he looks around but sees nobody; This skinny wayfarer thinks
That the secret steps seems to be tired than him.
* The thorns that never harm the flower
But only the invaders,
Oh! What a wise combination is this?
Once again, very profound. And very sad. Shadow footsteps. At least the pilgrim has company. Enigmatic. Warm regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Gentle irony pervades this pensive poem about those who strive for something beyond the ordinary and become lost in the process of their pilgrimage. I like the use of the word 'gentle' to describe the illusive footsteps of the pilgrim's unseen companion. Sandra's right. This one is definitely enigmatic. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥