i see. group of tiny yellow birds
gatherings seeds at the green
they hop, hop and start to sing
they never scratch the ground
they just eat what they can find
bobbing their heads in rhyme
a golf ball landed at the fringe
two went hop hop to investigate
and came back with message
time to disappear by the trees
they're up there quick, grooming
some offer to help, maybe courting
after the ball is putted to the cup
flag is raise to flirt with breeze
they came down picking seeds
they don't bother fading laughs
playful ones want a piggy back
only to be bitten and wing whack
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem