My soul has sung odes
Feet troden routes all snowed.
Some rhymes once encountered
Words misheard, and meaning altered.
Rare tales were between lines
Some scattered tragedies, few sporadic shines.
For indifferent; a paradox, that stays clandestine
For keen; a serendipity leaping to cloud nine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem