It's woven by a remote country lass
And he is certain that she still weaves.
She struggles in the fields with hemp
Under the burning Sun.
Whenever he wears it he feels his burden goes off
And in his long dreams
He runs to her strange straw house thousand times.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Completely captivating. A very charming poem. Warm regards, Sandra