Voices of the Mountains
There’s something about them that is never defined,
You can ask them anything these majestic minds,
The perfect answer they seem to know,
For the sake of their secret they tell you no.
They’ve been sworn to silence, still they bargain,
For one little whisper now and again,
This they are granted and when this they say,
The Wind comes along to whisk their words away.
Time and again they ask for this,
And the Wind stands ready to crush their wish.
When they can not take the enormous frustration,
They retire in silent isolation.
Helen was a beauty once and in a way still is,
But no longer could she take it so she wished away her wish.
They used to go to seek her counsel and some remain in vain.
For this once acropolis,
Lays vacant as a dead colossus.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem