Poetry

The Wanderer

I have traveled on sand and hills,
Through the mounts that bend and kneel,
I have walked under the dark-blue sky
And the weather so harsh walked by

I have wandered through trees so thick,
Through old countries with fallen bricks,
When my breath was weak-blown out,
And from the fallen star I looked about.

On vessels; I traveled on the dark-blue seas,
Where the wooden monster sail with no ease,
Under the golden sun-smiling sky,
And over wide ocean’s watery mystery.

I have walked the troublous wood behind,
Wherein I wander so deaf and blind,
Through fallen cities and ruined countries
Wandering on and on through my endless journey

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