With new life an ash mound
Is explosively tipped.
Round this grave, mountain-shaped
Upsprung, of whose delight
Sounds for a hoof skipped.
Delicate have men deemed
Nature; easy to daunt.
High conceit is what's been
Blasted! Through what's uptook
Of flowers, winds flaunt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem