The road is long
Still we go on ever determined
For we are weary,
Until before us we find the end
Where earlier this day we only began
There are few as we, my love and I,
Beside the road I see many things pass swiftly
Almost a blur to my eye;
The yellow wildflowers in all their glory
Among the thorns and irreverence left behind
By someone who did not cherish their beauty
I think of life;
The hills, the valleys,
The forest green, the prairies dry
And ponder how they too pass swiftly
Almost a blur to my eye
As the yellow wildflowers in all their glory
Among the thorns and irreverence left behind
By someone who did not cherish their beauty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem