Not kept by the mountain,
but owning it -
its shape, now destined
for invisible change,
its muteness, now to
become a hardened
fate,
allowing conifers
simple access,
simple, green salutations to begin.
A very good poem describing Rt 40. Very few people would really take the time to look at the road in which they travel. Liked it!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
full of interesting contradictions. Also very fresh