he was the hero of the forest
friend of the trees and brook
he was the hermit of the city
a buried name in a book
he wished for a faithful companion
he hoped to find her one day
till every hope had vanished
and silently slipped away
he loved not well enough
and most of his friends had died
before he closed his door
to the angry world outside
only then could he see the forest
only then could he sense the loam
as he plodded a midnight journey
to the green crisp valleys of home
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem