Ibex on a car again,
It never quite gets old,
It reaches for the tender leaves,
When chewing they unfold,
The desert spans for miles,
Springs with waterfalls and trees,
The finest twigs and greenery,
A gentle summer breeze,
Yet nestled in its habitat,
With nature everywhere,
It much prefers the parking lot,
To reach the finest fare,
Enjoying jumping car to car,
Then prances off with grace,
It leaves a set of hoof prints,
For the puzzled tourists' face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem