A bell is chiming at a distance
The wind has stopped above
Folds of land as if in a trance
The soul is about to leave for
Its den somewhere above the sky
Silence will creep in as a shadow
Someone in the hut is going to die
The pyre will light up the eyes
Smell of charred flesh wakes up
The wolves as they run with cries
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
End of a story with the smell of charred flesh made the hungry wolves run with cries.Excellent.10
Gratitude.