I stood on the top of the world
And saw hills from Cheviot to Cleveland
A North Eastern dreamland
of sorts;
And remembered many carefree days
With the summer forming a haze
over the grass;
A place where rabbit and yellowhammer abound
Where foxes hide
And the owl abides
And when the only sound
Was the movement of the air
As it swept the hill
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem