Hey, poplars, towards the heaven!
Around them wide fields - -
Rising high, black
- As pains he feels - -
Poplars.
Hey, poplars, leafless!
Will of darkness' ghost
Proud they stay ramshackly,
In cold, wind naked most
Poplars.
Hey, poplars, without life at all!
Standing speechless in a circle
- Nirvana-like illusions -
Empty looking down
Poplars.
Hey, the proud highest poplars!
Like their look my soul fades...
Up...? Down...? Into nirvana...?
- As a threadbare raven
Into night...
(Picture: Mark Williams - Three Poplars)
1 comment:
One of my most favourite poems. Translation by me... probably quite messy but still, I tried! :)
Post a Comment