Who sat beneath this tree
As I now sit below
Dwelling on a memory.
Of springtime long ago.
Could they too once have heard
The cuckoo far away,
Listened to the Blackbird
On a springtime day.
What tales this tree could tell
Of happiness or grief,
With just the blackbirds song
And whispering of leaf.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice stuff... and I really liked the title!