This day is soft
For my soul
Be restless
Less
More quiet
Fading.
The times pass
And
The days pass
The earth with
Snow
And sweat of labor
Covered.
On the low hills
Away
The sounds of
Fading horns
And bagpipes
On display
Fades,
Fades.
Fades.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem