Fields and meadows,
Pass me by,
I dodge in and out of trees,
God i wish i could fly.
Hes coming afterme,
with his candycane,
i run across roads,
And hop on a train.
Now i am away,
They may say i'm a winger,
But i'll know the enemy,
Of me is ginger.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem