There was a nice lady from Morocco
Who went mad when the sirocco
Howled and howled all night
When morning was full and bright
Quiet was the lady from Morocco.
An old man sitting on a bench
In his simple mind he was French
He read a page again and again
About the goat of Monsieur Seguin
That old man sitting on a bench.
Two silly birds perched on a bough
Chirped and chirped in a row
The shrill sounds were heard
Way down the sinewy road
Of the two silly birds on the bough.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem about ' the goat of Monsieur Seguin' and the silly birds that flew as their language. Thank you for sharing this wisdom.