He profits from extended toes,
As o'er the lily pads he goes.
His call is just a quiet screech
Although he's not inclined to preach.
He's tiny and he has no beard;
This lily trotter's really weird.
He wears a robe - a feathered suit;
He's light of foot, this little coot.
A miracle he doesn't sink
And end up drowning in the drink.
He seems so happy, not a care,
But then he has no cross to bear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hahaha...this is just beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing. What a joy!