The Whippoorwill has secrets, in the wood,
But none that he can keep;
Should I tell him a secret, if I could-
As he flits from tree to tree?
For there's none that he could keep-
Though all men were in their bed,
As he flits from tree to tree
Hearing whispers, in his head.
Though all men were in their bed,
It echoes through the night;
And there's whispers in his head,
While every star shines bright.
Though it echo through the night,
Should I tell him a secret, if I could,
While every star shines bright-
The Whippoorwill has secrets in the wood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem