I weep for the hills laid waste by darkest night.
I weep for the rivers frozen in coldest ebony.
I weep for shadows of trees and the failing sun.
I weep for the tropics of paradise and the sea.
When the beauty of the earth vanishes from me,
then what was one life worth but what is lost?
My mark upon this day must fade at dusk.
Lost is the beauty of a maiden's plaintive dance.
The passion of love on an August night subsides,
gone, gone on the wind of a midnight storm
as sodden ashes fall upon the sand,
the residue of fires the storm had fanned.
The end brings naught but tears and silent doubt,
memories of vanishing time in a roundabout.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yep....get the drift. Love it in its sadness of loss and the dark word colours. Sombre and beautiful if such a thing exists. Thank you Barry.
Sombre and beautiful is exactly what I was aiming at. Thank you, I think sad things become beautiful when beautifully expressed. I appreciate your comment.