The days of Spring are gone again
Flowers be-deck the valley,
Gentle is the Summer rain
As through the woods I dally.
From the fields corncrakes call
As swiftly flies the swallow,
Moss adorns the farmyard wall
Near to the rabbits burrow.
Along a lane a blackbird sings
Competing with song thrushes,
Of youthful memories they bring
The ripening blackberry bushes.
A river gently flows along
By lush field and meadow,
Sounding like a fairy song-
A source for miles of shadow.
Beyond the school children play,
Young hearts no place for sorrow,
Thinking not of lessons, today,
Nor of the days to follow.
O’er the hill a cuckoo’s call
Confirms the rhythm of Summer
Piercing through the larches tall
And fading without a murmur.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem