Cuckolds, cuckolds all, rejoice!
For I have stilled the mocking voice
of that usurper of the nest,
that burglar with the black-barred chest,
that paedophile upon the wing:
the earliest cuckoo of the spring.
The cuckoo called; I know you hate him;
I caught and killed and cooked and ate him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem