Floods caught him sadly, without words to speak
The misery and the gloom, when there's no light
In darkest mazes of a watery night.
To supplicate all efforts left him weak.
Not like the happy trees, stretched high and sleek
Above the mountain line in their delight
To be alive. Slanted, a startling sight
And quite a silhouette to viewers from the creek.
To supercede the shadows' incessant fall
Into his soul like thoughts of dreamt up threat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem