chilly morning
crispy grass
whistling leaves
busy woodpecker
cloudy lake
i don't mind
i balance ball on a tee
whisper to myself
'go straight beyond bunker'
i swing left to right to find momentum
take a deep breath, pull slowly
and release all my power
compressing the ball
into the air, it fly
landed on the softness
of the fairway
i'm happy
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I would like to translate this poem