Avalon, Avalon, you enchanting cradle of clusters of hills and secrets galore…
My history forefather, of Joseph of Arimathea, was England’s spiritual floor.
Walk me in my wakening dreams, sweet autumn’s view, serenely strong…
Lovely, Isle of Avalon, womb of folk lore and my ancestor’s blessed song.
Avalon of Avebury Glastonbury, where is your chalice; some question still?
Walking on paths near cathedral wells while bathing in history’s quill.
Legends told of brave knights, King Arthur’s clan, and descendants of Abraham.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem