The crunch of frost gave way beneath my feet
As the morning sun fought off the stubborn mist...

To breathe in woe and then bemoan the...
Can bring no kind of sympathy or peaceful rest...

When lilies and dahlias
thrived on my grief...

~~~~~
My muses are the furrowed fields...

...I am amputated from reality,
and pain-drenched wailings swim...

When time itself has run its endless course
And rivers dry before they meet the sea...

Dithering, digesting the soiled land,
it slid and slipped beneath the rocks...

If heaven bursts, they all fall down
and there will be no hiding place...

The loneliness of plundered, foreign lands
Has gifted back my love of England's green...

Can you see me up there, on top of a cloud,
I'm floating above you...