High amidst the sinking sands
The dust collector sinks his hands
Into the strange, bewildered lands
Where not a single timber stands
The sun is dull; a raven flashes
Eyes as dim as buzzard ashes
Long and lovely are her lashes
Sweet and dim her shadow crashes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There's something very intense about this poem tyler. Very nice. Sincerely, Mary