Another May Day arrives and the Farmer, he shudders,
In a deep moment of fear for everything he loves –
His cows and crops and his children, so very dear.
The old beech sways creakily in a passing wind
Cutting his fear wide apart with a frosty slash
Of panic, striking the poor old Farmers heart,
Sending his poor soul searching for itself.
The Farmer dashes in a sweat from house to parlour.
Checking on the butter – still yellow, still hard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem