By Thomas Page

The Untranslatable

This is a series of poems of words that do not directly translate into English. I have tried to capture the essence of the word in a poem.

The trees’ canopies hover above

And the sounds of humanity fade into the clouds obscured by pines and firs

As the babbling of distant brooks set the tempo of walking

Ever so slowly like primeval sap tapped

Concerned as molasses with the comings and goings

A scene of tranquility draped in leaves and needles

As one disappears into the wilderness

Making no sound.


Language: German

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