The common bronzewing pigeon has a mournful coo
It sounds like a very soft repeated boo
Though far from endangered not seen everywhere
In parts of the countryside they are quite rare
They live in quiet places shy birds without fame
Not common to look at but common in name
They roost on the trees but they feed on the ground
And when they fly their wings give out a low whirring sound
In small flocks or in pairs they are to be found
And their numbers in plenty will never abound
Heard at all times of day to twilight from daybreak
Their soft and low cooing one could never mistake
Brown birds on their wings a bronze purply sheen
Though often heard they are not that often seen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem