Through the gate
And over the stile
Curlews calling,
Lapwings tumble.
Songs of skylarks
Melt and mingle;
Swifts and swallows -
Flick of an eye.
Stone walls glistening
climb the hill-side
binding fields
with ropes of stone.
In the sunlight
bracken burning,
streams cascading,
Blue hills beckon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem