Over the fields I roamed.
In my hand my hat
White with black girdle
My cheeks red my eyes
To the heavens immense
Raised.
Though I be sad
There's beauty in this
And the long winding of
Day
To end and fade in
The red and sweet
Lingering of dusk
And coming stars
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem