The eagle flew by my head
And I know Every tide has it's ebb
And this thought is there
To heckle
And while the sky spits
Ruthless drops
So shall the gutters fill
And silt runs
The tending trees
Tell thier tale
And I know
That before the sun
Retires to its bed
So while its soars
To hieghts and heights
And I stand
And watch it over my head
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem