Down from the trees, a Kookaburra,
tempted by the throwdown of meat, descends,
hops, chuckles and gobbles; and bounces back.
I want to give him something of myself;
I want to rapport with him.
But to him I am only a voice calling for meat.
Funny that a family-man who, as I,
marries till death do him part
and plots and toils for his young
seems to know me not.
But over across the creek
where he lives beyond such cloy and smack
we meet by-and-by when his belly laugh
brass-clangs the forest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem