The birds coo in the distance,
as the hunter strings his bow.
In forest of dull marble,
lost to a thousand years of dust and snow.
The hunter rest in the shade,
Of a temple, long ago the stone laid.
With his eyes scanning the broken hall,
he notices in scripted on the wall,
"THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
IS ENSHRINED FOREVER."
"Forever, " the hunter mouths,
As the palace crumbles around him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem