I wander under the tree,
The linger that abides;
The sap maybe rates quee:
A single among flies,
Just like the birds up there,
Must long for lullabies;
A fingle song more of swear:
The lust of summer songs,
The leaves afloat the shimmering,
The grant on galor's spoke;
Oh, bittering and following:
The breeze under the oak,
The humors lie unduck my head,
The pureth I could be;
The tree was like a remedy:
The lusheth of the sea,
But what would qwigh until a found:
Your truly majesty;
Cry among a lingers' ound:
A token memory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem