My song is like a
whisper in the wind,
whose melody is lost
in the clamoring din.
A thousand adoring voices,
like a raging waterfall,
cascading praise upon you;
drowning out my quiet call.
O fie thou foolish heart!
to be so fond,
why must this delicious
misery go on and on?
1995
aka Taliesin Flynn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem