Three times a day
a train roars through
a field a farm away
booming like an Angus bull
looking for companionship.
Nearby in Henson's field
Guernsey cows eat their grass
behind a redwood fence
and moo in blissful peace.
They've heard this bull before.
No need to raise their heads.
He can't come through that fence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem