Stones standing tall in fields of grass.
An enigma left of a distant past.
Long distances some have travelled,
their mysticism yet to be unravelled.
Secrets that once bound spirits together
now lay lost amongst the grass and heather.
Although these iconic structures make no sense,
they remain true ‘Silent sentinels of sentience’.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem