My cottage in the piney wood,
more than a home to me,
something that is plain and good,
sits in a great oak's lee.
Surrounded by the trees so tall,
it nestles in the earth.
Overhead the birds do call
and give to it new worth.
In the night, the waning moonlight
shines down with subtle glow.
Engulfs it with its pale light,
with shadows, high and low.
In spring it seems the best to me,
when nature starts to bud.
Plants sprout out and I can see
the new life through the mud.
In summer, glow of sunny days
surrounds it like a crown.
Dandelions loose displays,
engulf it with their down.
In autumn wears a hat of leaves,
which trees do shed with glee,
and collect within the eaves,
for one and all to see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem