From where I stand the sheep stand still
As stones against the stony hill.
The stones are gray
And so are they.
And both are weatherworn and round,
Leading the eye back to the ground.
Two mingled flocks -
The sheep, the rocks.
And still no sheep stirs from its place
Or lifts its Babylonian face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
so cute, how did you come up with it i always try but i cont