There still must be a secret place,
a land where no one comes to call,
I saw it clearly in my youth,
a forest near a waterfall.
The valley was obscured in mist,
and I had stumbled on that spot,
but then moved on to grander things.
In time the sanctum was forgot.
But far from home and tired and old,
I often fall into a dream
of safety and a hidden glen,
and sacred meadows by a stream.
Some night the dream will come again,
and I will build a cabin there,
to welcome then my peace and rest,
relieved of burdens and of care.
A wish for peace and tranquility so beautifully rendered through beautiful imagery and memories. Loved it. A big 10.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Our whole life is such a tomb like the cabin the poet is expecting to build.We do nothing else in life than build our tomb, dear Barry.Happy is the person who succeeds in building such a cabin.So sensitive, dear Barry.