Should I be lost when far from home
No sign of help or mobile phone
The east wind blowing in my face
That chill my bones and leave a trace
Of cold and emptiness and more
Shifting leaves on the forest floor
Among the roots and earth and grit
No longer do I stand on it
As I succumb to nature raw
Without the sight of an exit door
I curl up, wrapped in the cold embrace
Of that chill east wind upon my face
And I'm far from home and all alone
Curled up and chilled to the bone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Falkland island maybe///////