The ecstasy of music and
the euphony of song,
are beautiful sounds of harmony
where angel voices throng.
Hedgerows of the meadow
are humming with the bee,
birds of summer sing in chorus
high up in the tree...
England wouldn't be England
without the call of the tide,
or wedding bells from over the fells
to greet the country bride.
The breeze on strings of a violin
is delicate and oh so sweet...
and village folk are quite enthralled
at the bleat of goats and sheep.
'Continuing silence' will never be
out in the wild of the West clountry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem