Happy sweet hours, to try my hands
At the veg, at the dough, as I might;
Now freed at last from tangled bands,
Like a cage bird, longing for new sight.
Happy in nest, combing for flight,
Recipe searched from a cookbook,
Like perch on the tree provides delight,
Pause and ponder, as a praised cook.
A little fish that's ready for the hook,
Unaware of high waves or the rough sea,
Dreaming of th' clear babbling valley brook
Vivid with birds and beasts, full of glee.
Life like a bird or fish me pleases alone,
No need to fear the boss, and humble to none.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem