On open hills I have walked
And from their summitts to view I stood
All that nature before me spread
As many others often would.
But I. not looking, often saw,
Only what was physically there,
Not the hopes and dreams and fears,
Of those that there dwelt, and did not care...
I cared not for the farmer in the tractor
Whose harvest was another battle won
To build a farm and a family
To hand one day to his son.
Nor tha lady in the cottage
Passing the last of her days,
Who by others was despisedfor her frequent scorn
For she was too set in her ways.
I saw not the joys and the disappointments,
Of those building the future or reflecting on the past,
All i saw was a tractor and old woman
As across the scene my eyes I cast.
For those not looking will not see
The truth before their eyes thats placed,
For they dont look, and they dont care,
As through their lives thy’ve raced.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem