An old scarecrow stood with his arms akimbo,
Thinking his dull life was now in limbo,
He somehow, never seemed to scare the crows,
He had tried hard enough, heaven knows.
His coat was torn and there were many more
Holes, where the crows had searched for straw.
His hat was looking limp and out of shape,
His shirt in the front, had begun to gape.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem