Sir, if you go down hill
and climb high up,
you will be right there
in the Echoing Green;
When it is hot like now
and it is mid-summer,
children here go there
to pluck black berries;
And when they laugh
which they often do,
all their laughters are
repeated by 'The Echo; '
And when at dusk they
return, it is only by night they
reach; as all their paths
had been an echoing maze!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very nice, concise piece. MM