Should I, then rejoice
at every sunny break
and mourn,
with every cloud cover..
Here
looking at the whitewashed
walls, moss laden
and the rising towers beyond
ancient acacias in between,
nodding soulfully
Should I, then connive
at every opportunity
or let it come to me
slow and easy..
Was terribly depressed, with no end to it in sight. Those huge and silent trees, ficus, acacia, laburnum, they became friends.. immensely grateful you thought it fit to leave your footprint, Rachel Ann
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yeh let it come slow and steady for slow and steady wins the race