The tumult of the city,
The sounds of the drivers,
The noise of the children,
And the waves of the ocean!
He roams the hills for his pasture;
But, she searches every green thing for her lover! !
And the wings of the ostrich wave proudly around them,
But they cannot be compared with the pinions and the feathers of the stock.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem