As darkness falls, howling
wind cometh. In the antlers
of life, grief is the baleful
thief. For as trees weep leaves,
when love is hushed, the heart is
cold iron and wanders unto fatal
waves. No stormy sea abides as
ragging bulls. When the burden
of the rain vanishes, ye will be
like thunder the mighty lion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem