deep in the green of a Banana tree,
there's a wee bird twittering at me,
when the heavy air lies hot and still,
he cries, your ill, your ill, your ill!
I wouldn't mind if he said it just once,
does he takes me for a stupid dunce?
time after time your ears he'll fill,
with cries of, your ill, your ill, your ill!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem