In memoriam, Sir John Betjeman.
He was a nature-loving gentle man,
Anglican by faith, a genial fellow
As bright and colourful as Piper's window,
A staunch campaigner for the countryside.
Victorian friend of churches far and wide,
With joy he'd listen to the church bells ring,
On Sunday with the congregation sing
And in the high street, stop to have a chat -
The people's best loved poet laureate.
St Enodoc's church amid the golf course
Adjacent to the tenth fairway, he rests.
His presence like the heady scent of gorse
Which floats amongst his uninvited guests.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A good poem, you write well too