I celebrate the faraway places
With songs from natures heart
They are fulsome in their graces
From first till last hour start
The tones of beauty remoteness
Through all their graceful light
With air and mist of bareness
Their morning or moonshine night
O dreams of faraway hold the eye
Of images in their going
Their wistful dreams and open sky
With stars or the sun glowing
*Made with this painting: http: //www.flickr.com/photos/peter_s_quinn/3838452436/
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Words hold out much hope