Weep wethered keening wind ash-
coloured shroud mist fugitive.
Flee rush. On without rest. Forever
searching forever transient
forever calling memory achingly lost.
Sighing through woods haunting
is windblown soulless lost call.
Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem