Touched that which tried again and again.
A sense that bends the earth and ripples,
raised the grounds.
And a heavy wind, so did the hill walk on,
raged with laughter and went hollow where
hung the senses.
And for less then smiled, it fraught the wallow
to feel, but nothing reached down
begging another trip.
Who not the man was, but something
Ghost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem