Horses, cattle, men...
Immobolized all.
Hooded over as no dear babe
Lulled warm in a shawl
Marshland fogs out-loomed...
Sunk to place-footing
Upwards, but for a slighter despair
Limbo's way out, way in.
Swans wake a ripple
That sounds like dissent.
Far banks only breaking news of it;
No less inconsequent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem