The bass drone on the bagpipes play
The man in his kilt plays it
The misty Scottish air receives it
A constant sound
Under the melody
Always whining
Always sighing
Under lying.
In his emotions
He feels he is not good enough
His misty heart receives it
A constant sound
Hidden under the mechanics of his life
Always whining
Always sighing
Always lying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem