A bitter but calm wind stretches its reach among the gentle hills
Catching the long grass that wishes it could leave its past behind and drift along with the cool breeze
The wind glides past the ancient stones, now fallen, scattered and overgrown
they reminisce of times long past where they were once a strong refuge mightier than any howling gust
Nearby, Atop of the hill, the wind passes swiftly over the grave-like stumps and threads its way through the tall, thin trees who are next in line
The iced weary earth rumbles, its slumber distributed
its cold heart starts to beat and every blade of grass shivers in fear
The swift wind blows past this sacred land, unaware of the lost memories it has awakened
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely piece of poetry, well articulated and insightfully penned with conviction. A tale of movement of bitingly cold but calm winter wind well depicted in the poem. A good one indeed. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.