Between two hills
The old town stands.
The houses loom
And the roofs and trees
And the dusk and the dark,
The damp and the dew
Are there.
The prayers are said
And the people rest
For sleep is there
And the touch of dreams
Is over all.
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I read just the opposite. A place were everything has come to a standstill. A place without creativity. Where life is not, only dreams.
There is beauty in this town and its people. The poem celebrates peace and simplicity, and hints of comfort in a small town at evening.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An idealist picture of a town between hills. People sleep easily there, 'And the touch of dreams/ Is over all'.