Out where the old road
winds among the hills
we walk in the sunshine
listening to a lark
A lark so high it is invisible
yet its strong sound colors
the countryside for as
far as the eye can see
The donkey walks between us
It’s two baskets bouncing
It’s four shoe-less hooves
kicking dust from the road
We know every bus, car and
truck for miles around
and solemnly salute the
drivers as they pass.
A car we don’t know stops
these are tourists and
they stand around saying
- how very cute we are.
They take photographs,
And our names and address
And, they give us money
because we are - so cute
This time two pictures came
See there we are, the donkey
my brother and me and we
are laughing in the sunshine
And an office block in New Jersey
one window marked - I work here
and, say hello to the donkey
My brother quickly says, Hello
The photographs have faded now
but I can sometimes hear the lark
I’m on the twenty seventh floor
So I must be closer than I was
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem