The gentle deer, oh my child
Move on graceful feet unshod
Through the depths of forests wild
Under the watchful eye of God.
The gentle deer, oh my child
Wear no raiment on their back
Unclothed, yes - but undefiled
Do not lament the lack.
The gentle deer, oh my child
Make do with what they've got
Reputedly, are meed and mild
An upright unhuman lot.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem