I didn't see the signs before my eyes,
I didn't see the crack that underlies,
I didn't read the writing on the wall,
I didn't see, since beauty did enthral.
Yet now I see the pieces wouldn't fit,
Now I see it's easier to quit,
Now the cold has turned me into stone,
To weather out the Winter on my own.
Just as my falcon, full of life and youth,
Torn and shred by corvid claws uncooth,
With sharp indignant cries, refused to yield,
'Fore turning tail from the brutal field.
(CBB Sept 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem