Out in the sunshine romping
over the field and hill,
he'd run until I called him
with a whistle clear and shrill.
The light on his coat would be dancing
and his eyes would sparkle too.
Pudding was more than a dog.
He was friend and companion true.
On the beach, in the water he'd follow
not thinking of danger or fright.
We'd run together from morning
'til Mother would call us at night.
But now the years have passed us
and Pudding can rom no more.
We sit and dream by the fire
of the things we did before.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem