The long rocks of meaning a tumble avalanche thoughts
dulcimer sweet ringed fire
clouds roil on the moors edges black
flashes of fire rumbles low growl
the heather bends shaken quivers purple bell
as the large cold drops fall in plummeting splash
gentle streams become the raging torrents
tippling down grey backed roiling grinding
so swift a passage the rain ceases
revealing blue eyed skies and lark song.
behind the air is fragrant with moss and peat
kindly the sun beams down soft summer returns.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
not my favorite, but i still 'love' you! bri :) let me read another.