A trip to the far-off Fiji Islands
across the Pacific Sea,
is out of reach ~ out of the question.
This writer's time is for Poetry,
never to see those mighty mountains
and the Fiji woodland trees,
or the University City of Suva
with its calm and gentle breeze.
But in autumn, he may travel
southward to sands which are golden
and pebbles that shine.....
on little England's nearby shore
where no volcanoes blow the mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem