The contract was torn
After two springs of making
They walk off smiling.
Above the township
On the cool high veldt
The pillars broken.
Tall elegant goth
Gliding dark against the sun
Of her missed love.
Weathered old root
Needing sunshine and fresh air
A sad little thing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Think this one passed me by in the trauma of my 'missed love'.