The thistles on the sandy flats
Are courtiers with crimson hats ;
The ragworts, growing up so straight,
Are emperors who stand in state,
And march about, so proud and bold,
In crowns of fairy-story gold.
The people passing home at night
Rejoice to see the shining sight,
They quite forget the sands and sea
Which are as grey as grey can be,
Nor ever heed the gulls who cry
Like peevish children in the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh, I like this! It takes a good poet to put you in a place far away from where you live. Love the simple words she uses- love - -Nor ever heed the gulls who cry Like peevish children in the sky.