Oh how I love that golden dome;
it gives me a feeling like I’m close to home.
Game day arrives and the leaves are brown.
Playing of the Victory March is a joyous sound.
Fans from all over attend the big game,
pray in the Grotto, and cheer Notre Dame.
The cool breeze is like an old friend,
when it’s an autumn Saturday in South Bend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem