Down a quiet, tiny lane
That wound amongst the hillocks
Where dry stone walls protect the fields
Of grazing sheep with coal dust faces
To a tidal inlet bay, with wind bent trees
Ground hugging shrubs and quiet water
That gently lapped the pebble shore
While on the larger rocks, small seagulls stood
Awaiting on the tide, for their supper
I stood, watched and listened to the silence
As the sun went down on the opposite shore
Behind the velvet covered hills
Dressed in green and brown and purple
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So vivid! You paint a beautiful picture. Thanks for sharing.