The fruits that the summer was growing
Are picked from the bushes and fields.
I wonder if the creatures were knowing,
To us all their sweetness would yield?
The mists of the autumn are thickening,
Though rank with dark fumes and smells.
And all on the earth is near sickening.
And it’s us they are cursing for this hell.
Already the tree on the mountain
Is torn from its leaves by the wind,
They float down the waters of the fountain
To us in the valley that sinned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Powerful words wich awakwn responsibility in humanity who have done more to destroy the earth that all the other species put together. Excellent write. Let me know what you think of my poem 'I Choose the Mountain'