Now the heady bonfire air
Takes me far away somewhere
From the fire and smoke and yet
To their very birth near a farm sunset
Where trees form our horizons here
That seem so close but not so near
For the delightful things which slow our way
Like hedge and ditch and meadow hay
But content we are to gaze only
And think that what some call lonely
Are those places we find most sweet
And where we find our dusty feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
w are to gaze only, thanks.