THE VAGABOND
Wandering through the countryside,
All things to my eyes became sanctified.
My old sailor's coat became sacred too!
I dipped my hand into a stream of china blue,
And walked into a wood where the chosen reside.
I drank mystic ales from that good grove.
In the sun, as a vagabond, I did rove
To the outskirts of a gleaming plain,
In the redolent rapture of the falling rain,
Where the summer breeze removed all pain.
And at the foot of a castle, where moss clad stone
Gleamed among blooms kissed from above,
I ceased to feel the coldness of being alone,
For there below a terrace of sunlit vines
I had found the essence of eternal love.
For a lady demure with an angel's face
Of purity, light and timeless grace
Possessed a gaze of golden wines,
And the world became a sacred place.
And every blossom sang from the branches and the bines.
John Lars Zwerenz
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem, well articulated and nicely embellished in poetic rhyme and rhythm. Thanks for sharing John.