Let this hill rest...
Let the roots crawl into this failing earth,
Let the leaf fall, let day descend
On untilled slopes. Let the oak's girth
Strain and increase, vine down the rock
And paling blossoms flow in creeping wind.
Let my heart rest this purple hour
With slow wandering in dull passages of breath,
In unwoven air, in sleep withdrawn from death,
And voiceless span the mountain's crumbling tower.
Let me lie here unstirred, unwaked and still,
Let my heart lean against this fallow hill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem