The train breezed in slow,
I fell tumbled and rolled,
The platform turned green,
I looked up it was brimming with sheen,
Three grizzly's could see,
One little fella took a liking for me,
Came slowly at first, then dashed like a bee,
Before I knew what happened, my lazy lard was free,
He turned into a chipmunk, was pretty as she could be,
Standing in front, was singing silently,
I never spoke, never thought, never wrote poetry,
Must have turned and and tossed then
And lost my childhood visiting me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem