From the earliest breaking of dawn,
the doves, sparrows and weavers were on the lawn,
they pecked chirped, twittered and cooed
as if had great delight in this morn
and in this autumn their gladness I did not understand,
while closely together they did band,
were singing their songs of great joy
as if they were fed by God's own hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem