A country there was no room for
compressed into a town
of sophisticated music,
the magic violin -
where Scottish spirit
and English craftsmanship
collide, give life to
a box that wants to sing,
wood that trembles
as these deciduous hills.
I feel the country change, law change.
Language, as always, is debatable.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem