Ye my traveler,
Where is thy meeting place?
Yonder over the dales,
Or beyond the rushing gales?
Ye my traveler,
How many taverns so far?
Only a few cozy rooms
Or umpteen open grounds?
Ye my traveler,
How many hamlets so far?
A few cities’ buzzing streets
Or traveling among the village scenes?
Ye my traveler,
What is following thy lips?
A song unto the blooming buds,
Or a heart given to pessimistic mood?
Ye my traveler,
What is weighing thy bag?
A lending heart,
Or the pebbles of yore?
Ye my traveler,
Rest a moment under these shades.
Share thy tales, listen to the streams,
And glide along as the song of the open road.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem