A wail in the distance,
A whine in the wind,
Singing tracks,
My soul follows.
A vacant landscape
Prairie grass and chuck holes
Telephone wires
Invade the solitude.
Jutting mountain tops
Haloed in thunderheads
Climb ever onward
To the horizon.
Through it all
The freight train rushes
Without me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem