Tristia
Tristia
Sad things
Yellow brown pines
Scent of yews
A sea that thunders
A heaven that rolls
With waves of clouds
Sounds and
Bombardments that rend
The town
The ancient town
Asunder
Tristia
Tristia
So many of sad
So many of drear
So many of black
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem