Before me, I can see you eternal,
Cloistered, in these hills of sand.
Ceaselessly, diurnal and nocturnal,
Parched, crystal grains, flung and fanned.
I am as the shadows, slow, creeping new
Over, what were once mountains?
Was this lush forest, rivers flowing through?
Natures cooled, endless fountains?
Of most that you have seen and yet will see,
Do these sands of yours make sense?
Are you apathetic to all, and me?
I am, here. You, ......... void of tense.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem