To try for all that is possible
or to deal with whatever remains?
What oddity piles a mountain tall
from what's left or swept away?
Or to forget the passive, inactive saying,
where certain miracles were nothing
more than impossible phrase.
Where the learn'd astronomer or
even Whitman knew a certain child's game.
And so tossed away or no longer claimed
the sky or any star. What hovers over
every shoulder with the fear of what
we are.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very impressive write, Scott J. Shepard. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.