It is not nature that is beautiful
It was the mind that made it so
Without the curves of the earth
the rivers would not flow.
As Death makes life, hate makes
love, It was the poet who drew
our attentions to the sky above.
Before mans mind scanned the
earth, natures beauty had no worth.
A flower became a multi coloured
dancer, A river a gushing river from
the mountains mouth.
A burning ball became a blazing eye.
It was the poet who taught the birds
thier songs, The poet who trained
the trees to dance when the winds blew.
It was she who sparkled the mornind dew.
For without the poet.
Nature was a mere mumbling mass
That lived, breathed and Died.
Natures beauty was created
through the poets mind
and painted with the poets eye.
Love the meaning and the poem. What a gift! It was a pleasure to read this... truly...
What a nice write Vincent, a joy to read and a lovely picture painted here. Love Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't entirely agree, but I get and appreciate your point... The greatest gift of nature's beauty is the wordless ache it inspires, which we desire again and again.