My light is disappearing and
My air is ever fouler as
I reflect on large buildings and
Growing lines of traffic on my banks.
Someone has closed an eye
But I still see and enjoy
Children laughing, diving and
Swimming at the heart of summer.
I feed my birds as scavenging gulls
Compete with my resident swans
Darting and chasing here and there
But all find fulfillment, at this horn of plenty.
A patient fisherman reflects on life
As the odd walker sings my praises
But no barge now, no horses, very little
Other than Patrick, my solid friend, contemplating.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem