My little happy-go-lucky cart
Rolls towards the fields.
And I hear the faraway sound of breaking soil
With the harrow.
Sorry, I do not have any qualifications to be a farmer
But I have a hatchet and my broken-stringed lute.
Hope a farm lassie loves music
And I can sing a song to her lonely heart.
Humbly I dedicate this poem to the *Irish poet Mat Mooney.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely pastoral scene without a doubt.I can hear the sound of that harrow. I was moulded by the clay of tillage fields in the West of Ireland and it was amid scenes like that my dreams began. Thanks very much for your dedication.Have you read Patrick Kavanagh? . You would really like his work. Voted you 10.