I'm sitting alone on my throne of cold stone,
High up on the mountain top.
I'm sitting alone with memories to hone,
Where the sandstone dares to outcrop.
I've sat here before, a thousand times or so,
Yet my pleasures are never the same.
It's what I adore, thrills me to the core.
Artistry, in a bucolic frame.
The vision I see, so vividly,
Portrays a hundred shades of green.
Rolling pastures, oak trees, the flowers, the bees.
It's a picture to bedazzle a queen.
The red kite hovers high, way up in the sky.
So graceful against it's backcloth of blue.
Magpies chatter away in the hedgerow all day.
And the bluebells blossom anew.
Skimming so low, where the wild orchids grow,
The swallows dart after their prey.
It's amazing, you know, that a kite fears a crow,
For the crow comes and sees it away.
The cattle graze lazily, down by the brook,
And my collie puts her head on my knee.
Beauty surrounds me, wherever I look.
I'm as happy as happy can be.
I reflect for a while with a sigh and a smile
On fond memories, of joys, and of cheers.
It‘s then, from my throne of outcropped sandstone,
I feel the music of the spheres.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem