As I went past the mountain, hill,
A voice echoed and said something;
Won't you see my sweetest rill?
I stopped, searched, was there anything
I saw a mockingbird still;
An eagle was hovering to catch,
That's why bird played as ill.
And the voice I heard was a bird's match.
Wow powerfully moving! .. Very beautifully expressed! .. Definite 5 Stars! ................
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another excellent poem my friend