Silently soaring on fingered wings
Twisting and turning and using the breeze
Gliding above us he sees many things
Side-slipping, diving and dipping with ease
His beady eyes pick out his prey
Above the ridge he starts to hover
Making minor adjustments for the wind on his way
He swoops on his victim without any bother
The vale of Cwmystwyth is far down below
Splendidly glowing in the late evening sun
The red kite spins and puts on a show
He really knows how to have some fun
He's the red kite, the colour of Wales
The path of his flight writes a song in the skies
The Welsh Dragon's tongue is in the fork of his tail
Power and beauty clash as he flies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem