A thought this morn
I spare this soil I crunch
Under my feet it groan
Where hitherto I ignore
Bit if backed and smoked
Will my sole not scald in burn?
If iced and frozen
Will I not congeal in blood?
If washed and eroded
Will I not slip a fall?
And if it dies
Hmm! Where will my feet then rest
But on the corpse of my spoil.
(Thursday 25th January,2001,8.15am)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Memories! ! Reflections. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Thanks dear poet friend.