High up North in Alaska,
In the land of the midnight sun.
East of the town of Dillingham,
Where the King Salmon run.
The Nushagak river winds,
Over one hundred crooked miles.
Through the lowland marshes,
Deep into the Alaskan wild.
Our day's journey starts,
Just North of the Egg Flat.
We fish until the sun,
Is high upon our back.
Off to the Dead Otter Hole,
Past the Eagles Nest.
Our guide knows the river,
And where the fishing is best.
Soon our stay is over,
And we must leave this place.
Forever ingrained in my memory,
The beauty of the Alaskan wilderness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That's rather a beautiful poem of what seem's a very wayout place to get too. It made a very nice read and gave a good impression of the place. Sincerely Ernestine Northover