The mists are almost always here.
Bad for hairspray. That gets quite
Costly.
Rangers look for campers who've
Gotten lost, one, two, three, and more
Days.
The mists mute the losts' cries. shouts,
Sorrowful wails of giving up. No, they
Have not been forgotten. But,
Neither have the mists.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You really convey the atmosphere with this writing.