this rant contains some words of Edgar, s spoon river anthology, The Hill
'Lo he babbles of the fish frys of long ago of the horse races long ago at Clarys Grove of what Lincoln said one time in Springfield'
Edgar longed for the days of old
with a spirit of new
now he, s old long gone and i do too
with a mind as sharp as a sliver
he now rests with the folks he wrote of
from across the spoon river
i bet some would like to fight
with no mercy upon their folly
Edgar shined a light
i know Edgar they cannot kill
'all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem