I like to see it lap the miles,
And lick the valleys up,
And stop to feed itself at tanks;
And then, prodigious, step
Around a pile of mountains,
And, supercilious, peer
In shanties by the sides of roads;
And then a quarry pare
To fit its sides, and crawl between,
Complaining all the while
In horrid, hooting stanza;
Then chase itself down the hill
And neigh like Boanerges;
Then, punctual as a star,
Stop - docile and omnipotent -
At its own stable door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is stupit nbmahnzsfgbnahbsghefbguhzddnsbgvhwaee
I am only 12. I am in middle school and even I know the good thing about a bad thing is there is something to take away from it.