You don't have to go to the dale
To find her playing with a butterfly;
She would hide from you
As she is young and shy;
You can't see her among trees and bushes
For she does not stay in a place;
Just track down her in fields
On her head she has done a new lace;
She may be on the hill, sitting on stone
And staring at the sky in a pensive mood;
She has been going there to watch
The flitting clouds since her childhood;
Yonder at the edge of dale you can see
Her squatting by the river side playing;
With sands, snails and pebbles
Watching the boats as they go down gliding;
Sometimes I watch her lithely tread
The narrow paths across the desolate field;
Her eyes looking for someone
Where the green crops wild flowers yield;
She is lost in herself and wanders through
Vales, forests, hills and hot desert;
Singing, dancing, laughing and murmuring
No one knows what is in her heart;
Sometimes they think she has met
Someone somewhere in those lonely lands;
Who fell in love with her and promised
To return and would ask her for her hands;
bravo bravo this is a very goood poetry (smileyface, smiileyface, smileyface)
can't ever forget the country girl she must now be sweet and loving AKP REMEBER ME PPME
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very picturesque. Rhyme, rhythm, music, beauty, all is there. I would certainly like to visit the countryside after reading this poem.
Thanks very much for your valuable time. Gratitude.
My heartfelt gratitude for giving your time and comment.