Standing, staring, glaring true
and contemplating what to do,
a fox and I on Parnell's hill
took to stand a moment still;
When thirty feet a trench became
a dormant street to frosty claim,
of city sleeping, time to creep
of city silent, time to keep
a minute glance, just, almost
deciding who's the real host.
Before a blink to say farewell,
our paths became a tale to dwell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem