We stood on Mount Parnassus
Gazing down toward the gulf of Corinth.
The olive groves wound downhill to the cleft
between the hills. The distant bleat of lambs blended
with the tinkle of the bells around their necks.
The first notes of birdsong stirred the air.
The scent of thyme was in our nostrils
We clung together for warmth in the early morning chill.
Suddenly the sun rose, and a golden shaft of light
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem