Nature is pushed back
Further and further, until
Childhood disappears.
At roads' terraced end
With his stick of Age one points
Innocence' lost years.
Yet its strident will
Of a wind's force, ghostily
Strikes at the heart, nights.
Fills up an image
In the mind, in a rain-storm
Of tears, tantrums, fights.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem