The distant mountains
against the horizon,
the snow a pallid
band of white.
From whence came the bogongs
that flew here once
in numbers uncounted
and now, at most,
in one hand?
They say that the passage
of passenger pigeons
darkened the sky
with the thunder of wings.
And the snow, too,
shall pass.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem