The caw of the crow,
Once harsh and loud,
Filled the skies when
They gathered in a crowd.
For fifty years
Their voices fell away,
Untill one lone caw
Returned to sway.
It's sounds, once grating,
Now sweet and clear,
A melody of memories
I hold dear.
From abundance to absence,
Time has flown,
Yet the lone crow's call
Feels like home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem