One cold night in September on a field of dreams a man in the twilight of his playing years took one mighty swing, and as the ball got hurled higher and higher on a cool breeze the cheers elevated throughout air. 'You can put it on the board, yes' the radio announcer exclaimed. Now thirty minutes later a man dove into sky and as his body hit the ground his glove rose up and in it a baseball laid and the Chicago White Sox with a 1 to zero victory post season dream began and this all happened on one cold night in September.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem