Beneath the high hills shall I walk, hidden from the relenting cunning of enemies.
My feet is made sure to stand beside flowing streams of sweet waters ever flowing from the high sides that covers me.
Yea, tho I rest my head at the mountians feet, her base is as the thighs of my queen.
Only in the valley, do I rest.Gods watchful eye protects me.The morning dew is my milk of joy. I lay my head upon the valley's stone, as the tender breast of her cavered from my side.
Ony in the valley, do the nightingale sing with a meoldy so sweet. Her voice ripples atonement for my soul.The night skies speaks unspeakable joy, as one flame after another designs the heavens, like a maze of wonders.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great start with a nice poem, Kenneth. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks