By the waters near the cliffs
Across the mountains Pyrenees
Lived a shepherd with his myths
Who trailed the Sword of Damocles
On his walk with stick in hand
By the rocks as sheep did feed
For a footing did not land
As blood by waters flow and bleed
Sweet mercy echoed through the valleys
And despair had found it's home
Counting out the final tally
For the life he shalt atone
As night did fall upon the shepherd
A star to hope and surely dream
For God to call upon the weathered
And cast good light upon life's stream
(2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem