Shivers, shivers each leaf wen Wind decides to chill Hastings Gardens
And so, too for things greater than leaves
And more so, perhaps for smaller things than leaves
For the Womb of Earth is upturned by such weather
Bleak the look on her face; haggard her eyes
Her once proud brows with bent eyelids proclaim
The overturning of the Womb of Earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem