Arrayed in a dress of shamrock green
she brightens up the woodland scene
and makes you dream of the Emerald Isle
where mountains stretch mile after mile
she smiles, and adjusts her bonnet of white
then wiggles her hips for our delight
flaunting her charms on the woodland floor
until it's time to close the door
then, folding her arms to make a pillow
she lays down her head as the wind starts to billow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem