Once wrote a few lines, called 'Little Cricket'
Regarding new found fame, it gave me a ticket
Speaking of only trivial, little insignificant things
Yet somewhere hiding, allowing one to dream
Of grande times far more simpler
Somewhere in his world we find peace
Immersing only in our thoughts
Then drifting gently out to sea
Quickened heart filled with hope
Among drifting valleys and dreams
Sitting proudly on my window sill
His ballads and echoes still sing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem