a cold bitter wind
with stinging drops of rain
bits of bitter cold
blowing into my frozen face
slowly my steps go
up the hill of man-made stone
my warmth is torn from me
by the coldness of the world
steel gray clouds race overhead
fleeing upon the wind
hiding warmth of the sun
all lies frozen about me
crystals of ice with cutting pain
now blow into my face
and the wind more bitter now
does cut me to the bone
dry brown leaves skitter by
with the sound of tiny claws
borne quickly upon the wind
their life all stolen away
dirty snow in shadows lie
about clumps of brown grass
scattered across the land so wide
where my path does lie
my steps do slowly drag
to the summits peak
where my weary eyes gazed down
to the long road that before me lies
the way twists back and forth
no straight path is for me
slowly across frozen land I must go
seeking where I would be
before me does the land fade away
under frigid gray clouds
that the road I pass upon
continues on below
in the distance I can see
bright light spearing through the sky
upon the mountain peaks so high
rising over cloud shrouded land
I do quake in the journey's length
the many steps so very long
if I'm to reach the patch of light
I see so very far away
weariness does leech my strength
fatigue does weigh upon my frame
hope does fade with each weary step
taken on this gray day
would that one could simply stop
this journey then set aside
another path there be to take
to another place to be
yet does light before me shine
upon the mountain peaks so high
though they lie so very far away
on the path that I cannot see
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem