Winter Grief
Life so brief…
Yet I am old
with an era of grief.
The earth unveils
a sad nakedness
And her hills
droop round my sorrow.
Into the stillness
living things scream
and only the nerveless dead
get tranquillity.
From the funereal mould
late asters blaspheme.
Yet I am old
with an era of grief.
The earth unveils
a sad nakedness
And her hills
droop round my sorrow.
Into the stillness
living things scream
and only the nerveless dead
get tranquillity.
From the funereal mould
late asters blaspheme.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.