Press on!
Press on!
Press on!
The way is long and serpentine, rubbly and
hilly, buffeted by riotous roar-vomiting wind
showering confetti of hot pecking sand,
With fortitude and faith they pressed on,
In the end,
They arrived.
Press on!
Press on!
Press on!
The way is long and serpentine, rubbly and
hilly, buffeted by riotous roar-vomiting wind
showering confetti of hot pecking sand,
With fortitude and faith please press on,
In the end, like the westbound eastern sun
You too will arrive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
David, I like the energy of the diction. But connotations matter, and confetti of hot pecking sand suggests celebration, chickens, all kinds of things not suggested by roaring wind. Maybe immerse yourself in lots of good contemporary poetry (Mary Oliver, Billy Collins) to see how connotations can be controlled. If you have time, check out my new website: jeffersoncarterverse.com Tell me how you like it, and, if you do, perhaps share it with interested friends? Thanks. Yrs, JC