There was an old man
In the merry glen
Who would sit for hours that ran,
On green fields then
Joyous birds chirped in the air
The jolly man be blessed
He had no more woe that's fair
But dances although still stressed
He would close his eyes for the breeze
Passing through him slow and smooth
It glided through the trees
I never saw him act moodily
For amidst nature his preacher
Would he feel anything but soothe
He saw the bliss of every creature
From nature, love he used to loot
With so little time left
He must go with the theft
Of perpetual memories and emotions
Lucky lad had all of nature’s elations
He dances below the shower
Of leaves and flowers
The chances and wishes hover
But there is the secret bliss he covers
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You have it already in you my Friend, A natural Talent to capture and release Wordsworth within the Nature that he so Loved. Thank you for sharing. Philip