Deep in dark caverns false history swells
With facts so true as wishing wells.
Stories of nations, each with its own
Pride and prejudice believed to the bone.
That which is, - To others not,
As what is stolen we dare say - bought.
Truth that's harsh we shan't connect;
Think thoughts-- Politically correct.
False hopes and dreams, for all it seems
Is not worth print on empty reams.
Yet, honored and trusted it guides us well
With facts so true - as a wishing well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hey, are you by chance the Lyle McLeod who use to live in Alpine?