The Old Bells Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
The Old Bells
Ah! The old bells it was
Their fault
That I walked through the frost
Of winter that
Hung down the trees with
Their disheveled hair unkempt
And let down:
Like girls without having done
Their make-up:
I passed through the frost breathing
Out mist like a forge
Under the trees with hair
Let down
I passed, I walked, I suffered:
Ah! The old bells it was
Of the cathedral, their fault.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/17/2024 11:31:07 PM # 1.0.0.1119
