Amongst the thousands of faces not one I do know
The noise of the traffic that buzz to and fro
The urban surroundings don't suit me at all
I long for the place where the currawong call
In the cool of the morning in the freshening breeze
The dark birds are singing on the tall eucalypt trees
In fancy the pipe of the shrike thrush I hear
In the mountain woodland a long way from here
Where the Goddess of Nature at peace does reside
The lure of her beauty cannot be denied
I long for the World beyond the crowded street
In the wooded hills where peace and beauty meet
Where the sweet scents of Nature are carrying in the breeze
And the currawong call on the eucalypt trees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem