Humid, wet and moist is this swamp land
each word I worry over my long hand.
Green broad hat and silver wings her hair
to be fair I'm true to mine my bonney lass.
Blue veins run the length of her white legs.
I row her in my boat to those far shores.
White turtle doves a ring around their necks.
The sun is hot and high we should start back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem