Alone, there walks a musican,
O’er the mountain terrain roads,
Just playing on his accordion,
His soul engrossed in pressing notes;
He walks for miles in country-side,
In solitude from place to place,
Under the cloudy sky, starless,
Along the coast-land by the sea!
With mesmerized eyes gazing ’round,
The beauteous scenes of Nature’s make,
And ears both glued to sounds of chords,
That emanate from his machine:
In unison with his heart’s throbs,
’Midst foliage, all verdure green,
And breeze from sea that cools his skin,
And muddy smell of coming rain.
He marches, longing freedom’s air,
Singing a patriot’s old song,
Whose words echo in the highlands,
With mind afilled by thoughts of war,
His motherland is embroiled in!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-11-2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is hitting. I am reading it in my homeland voice. t x