Joyous is life whilst summertime lasts.
Green the trees alive with Skylark song.
Aye, but nearer blows the winds that blast
And summons the tempest strong.
Yea! And how the nights grow very long
Where I with many woes and wrongs
in sorrow,
mourn
the famine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem