The river frowns
In such a roil,
A boil of browns
In jagged toil.
A screaming haste
Of tortured trees,
Laid to waste
Until rains ease.
I will not ford
It's frothing maw.
It's smothering jowls.
It's flooded crosswalk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An amazing little poem so beautifully penned Thanks for sharing..10