Fish can be bought in the market place,
So it isn't the fish I'm after.
I want to get free from the care-drawn face
And back to an honest laughter,
I want to get out where the skies are clean
And rest by a river's brink,
I want to get out where the woods are green
And I want a few hours to think.
Oh, it isn't the fish I am greedy for,
It's the chatter and song of birds,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem