There's a small crowd gathering slowly,
At the corner of the Trafalgar Square,
I can count an increasing heads,
I can feel all enthusiastic face,
Dressed in morning colors fresh,
The crowd defy a painted bouquet!
I ain't strong enough to hide my keen,
Slowly do I stroll to find what fuss it is,
Pushing myself through the crowd,
When I reach finally to steal a glimpse,
I am awestruck to endeavor beauty,
A little girl of seven dancing in whimsy!
Her effortless exertion do conceive a crowd,
And she is not lost! She does make us proud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem