The blowing winds
As the wind blows from the North Atlantic Ocean
We are in awe by its forces but also scared us
Know in its power we are small dust particles.
Defeated, we stand and wait for its destruction.
Up and up the mountain wave the ship climbed
Down its slope, it raced, and we could only wait.
The wind can be a friend too when it blows
Ashore on a hot summer's day and not forget
The morning breeze that gently caresses steers
Us to walk on roads the zephyr has dressed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem