You wait, always wait,
equally places and states
of mind:
mountain-top, your
snow solitude call
drifts unbearably down
to my suburban burden,
and you,
o hidden highway
every lane leads to
should we choose
to follow,
you wait,
and when I
am done forgetting
I will come,
I will come again
Suburban you are not. More the mountain top. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Max, I want to know more...... I feel longing, restlessness and remembrance. Your words are very powerful. I think your meaning is beyond words. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx