The bird watchers
were on their quest
to see the winged ones
of rosy breast
the feathered ones
of bright gold crest
the babies with
their downy vests
the twig-grass weave
of enduring nests.
Then they became
gourmet restaurant guests
saying grace over
food prayer blessed
and they ate
pheasants field dressed
and lifted glass from
the dish of duck pressed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem