Horn bills on the beach roads,
Pecking the leftover in groups,
Black and white are their hues,
The majestic beaks really fast.
The colorful horn bills with huge body,
Flying through the rain forest canopy,
Who has made so much pretty,
Each part may be tardy, together a beauty.
These birds sit on the high trees,
Watching the tourists with no fright,
Swaying down as the Indian summer kites,
To take what is fed to them in delight.
Walk beside people as the house chicken,
Not bother of the motorbikes that go with them,
Their land we possess to build beach resorts,
Alas, they are too lazy to hunt, but resolve to scavenge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem