Wo to our Young
By Thomas William Cornfield
Things move slow
When the truth is met.
One can see it
In all regrets.
Way off yonder
A Bagpipe wails
Sings the songs
Of ancient taleS.
A curiOus way
They foLD that thing
A tIme to pondER'
The paSt outing.
Then the moment is,
Then the Walk away
How Many More
Come home today
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem