The soundless rhythm of my hidden thoughts
Punctuates my strides on the unfeeling ground,
The chorus of my countless unwritten poems
Have a place in my private recesses found.
I feel a poem in the chirruping of the keen sunrise bird
And another in the sickening brutality of heartless men,
A couple of verses in the little-noted burials of great souls
And endless sonnets in the mystic things beyond my ken.
Hannington, very nice, you have a wonderful talent. I hope, rewards come your way soon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
an all round beautiful poem....the meaning and rhythm are both great, tfs.